Amalia Gkavea
‘'They went out into the streets of the city where it seemed always to be raining, the soft rain of autumn that made the few cars now moving around the city centre suck and lick out the shiny black roads.''
A stubbing takes place on Guy Fawkes Night. The bonfire is enough to light the faces of the murderers.
Or is it?
Two young men are accused of the crime, members of one of the local gangs, formed by children - for that is what they are - who are desperate for someone to listen to them and their needs. The parents' utter failure to be there for their children becomes the root of a crime that draws the attention of the Press aka. the vultures with pens and cameras instead of claws. But not all of them are the same. A young journalist becomes involved in the case - in more ways than one - and tries to discover the truth.
Julian Symons's mystery is a powerful, solemn commentary on how family and society can ostracise a person and drive them to crime and madness. This is what isolation and lack of understanding do to the young members of our societies. This is why parents need to take a good, long look into the mirror before they drive their children to despair. This is why teachers need to educate and nurture and stop treating the classroom as a field to exercise our twisted notion of authority over young souls. In Symons's story, the crime takes a secondary role. What really counts is the psychological impact of being the accused in a secretive community that points the finger without a second thought.
We witness the machinations of the trial process, the intrigues and calculations of seeking the sensational material for the first page, the battle of Labour VS Tories, two parties that don't give a fig about the people, and the changes that defined England during the 60s. The beautiful relationship between Jill (I loved her!) and Hugh made this excellent courtroom drama even more striking. And don't tell me there is no such thing as love at first sight because THERE IS and you are utterly clueless. Pun intended.
Poignant Introduction - as always - by Martin Edwards.
My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com/
‘'I want to be the biggest and scariest monster,'' Thuy says, ‘'so that if kids at school make fun of me for having two mums, or tell me to go back where I came from, or call me names, or bother me because I'm a girl, I can make them stop!''
A beautiful moving tale about a Vietnamese-American girl and the power of the fairytales in coping with the ugliest aspects of our lives. Beautifully illustrated and poignant, the girl has the good fortune to have two wonderful mothers who nurture her love for stories, myths, and legends. I loved the fact that the writer isn't dismissive or hostile towards tradition but uses it as a vehicle to be cherished and loved, as a force that continues to change in our modern times and as a pillar that offers security and knowledge.
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/
Many years ago in Greece, there was a superbly hilarious TV show, a political and social satire. One of my favourite sections in each episode was dedicated to real advertisements found in newspapers and magazine. There was no Twitter or Facebook back then. Those adverts were so illogical, so utterly out of hand that it was difficult to believe they were genuine. And yet, they were. This book by Kelly Mahon brought these memories back to mind. Our current times are even more delirious and out of hand and I am certain that many 30-plus-year-olds who are going to read Race Me In A Lobster Suit will come to think that maybe this world has derailed to the point of no return in terms of intelligence and decency.
Anyway, this quirky little book was an absolute fun. Mahon created fake advertisements and initiated the completely crazy conversations with the people who were brave (or foolish, it depends on the way you look at the subject...) enough to answer her call. I found out that there are people who are willing to become a human piñata. To play dead for the sake of a couple's fantasies. To knit a jumpsuit- human cocoon. To organize a fashion snow for 78 snakes. To volunteer for a cryotherapy programme. To provide urine samples. To become a canvas for someone to practise tattoos when that ‘'someone'' is a completely inexperienced amateur. And many more stories...
This is one of the funniest books I've ever read. Or one of the most disconcerting. I don't know. I'll place an advertisement asking for a decisions helper. Who knows?
Many thanks to Quirk Books and NetGalley for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.
My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com/
I don't want a ‘'fictionalized'' account. I don't want the POV of a Nazi. I don't want a ludicrous fictional character -whose only thought is SEX SEX SEX!!!! - that has nothing to do with the actual regiment. I don't want a boy's wet dream about these heroic women who sacrificed everything for freedom. I don't want the POV of a misogynist Soviet pig (my apologies to the lovely, cute animals for being compared to the Soviets)
Are editors and publishers even serious? The Russians and the Germans speak as if they are part of a Hollywood Mafia film. I was waiting for someone to come out and actually say ‘'I'll make him an offer he can't refuse''. And if you are going to play it down for shock value and decorate page after page with intestines, at least make them look realistic. Don't ‘'draw'' them like enormous, twisting, pink doodoos.
This...thing is an absolute blasphemy of the extraordinary story of the Night Witches, the 588th Night Bomber Regiment, the women who showed the Germans how this game was played in the Southern Front.
Don't mess with Russian history (or any history, obviously) if you don't have the chops to do it justice.
What's next? Queen Mary's Army Auxiliary Corps presented as bartenders? The Auxiliary Territorial Service depicted as pole dancers?
How does such trash get published?
ARC from Naval Institute Press and NetGalley.
‘'A month and a half later, he packed a bag, stuffing it with four undershirts, five pairs of underwear, a flashlight, two cans of sardines, a biography of Moshe Sharett, and anti-chafing cream. Not because he thought he might be cold but because he continued to fear the woman he had loved ever after she had passed away.''
The characters in these beautiful stories are faced with issues that would weaken the strongest of us. The loss of a child, the loss of a spouse, the awareness that your time is ending, the feeling of being helpless and trapped, the burden of memories, the inevitability of disaster, the pressure that comes with being in love. And yet, this is the force that keeps everything together. Love creates problems and love solves them. In a collection that is as vivid and melancholic as the afternoons during late summer, Iddo Gefen creates a treasure to be felt deeply in our hearts and a very special journey within the heart of Israel.
The Geriatric Platoon: An elderly man enlists in the Golani infantry brigade, trying to recover from the death of his wife. A moving, tender story of fatherhood, old age, independence and the cruelty of being selfish.
“Next to a red hill in the desert, our only daughter wandered and disappeared into the thicket of her dreams, leaving us blind—as we heard the thud of her fall without knowing in which direction to turn.”
Exit: A young girl seems to live inside her dreams and her parents are doing their best to cope with this extraordinary situation. A beautiful story about the bond between parents and children, between spouses, between plans and life as we get it. A tale about dreams, reality, love
“When did she tell him about the snow on the beach? He wasn't sure. But it happened here, during one of their first encounters, when she arrived to buy challah at the bakery and then slipped away with him into the nearby alley. That was where she told him about her very first memory. About children playing in the snow, digging with bare hands in search of the sand that had disappeared.”
The Jerusalem Beach:An elderly couple arrives in Jerusalem in search of a first memory made of snow and sea. A very emotional story about the strength of love that cannot be defeated by disease and time.
Neptune:The visit of a military journalist in a god-forsaken camp causes all Hell to break loose with tragic consequences.
The Girl Who Lived Near the Sun:A tale of intergalactic relationships, enterprises and a very special girl.
Debby's Dream House:A man starts working in a company that constructs dreams. But nightmares are also dreams and things become worse when his girlfriend is about to slip away from him. Manufacturing dreams becomes a superpower. Elegantly dark and profound.
101.3 FM: Fixing a radio becomes a telling metaphor for the paranoia that comes with falling in love.
The Meaning of Life Ltd. : Two people understand that finding the meaning of life means absolutely nothing when compared to the joy of experiencing the moments that really matter.
Three Hours From Berlin:In one of the most moving stories I've ever read, a young couple is trying to create the perfect experience in the perfect virtual world. But what happens when everything becomes a race and a struggle? A poignant remark about the lies that hide behind ideal smiles and happy statuses in our “beloved” social media...
How to Remember a Desert:We all have memories we try to forget and memories we wish never faded. But do we really need someone else's memories implanted in our brains?
“For some, this thing called living is just a bit too much. I, for instance, can tell you that I missed out on life by just a few feet. What can I say, it started out so fast that by the time I noticed, it was speeding ahead without me. You probably think this is just a bunch of hooey. That I didn't really make an effort. But trust me, I tried, I tried harder than anyone, it just didn't work. Nope, no two ways about it; there's always someone who misses the last bus, and in this lifetime it happens to be my turn.”
Anita Shabtai: Another gem, another moving story of motherhood, fatherhood, the difficulty of being a sceptic, the agony of daily life. I was particularly moved by the references to Thessaloniki and the song “Jerusalem of Gold” that always brings me to tears.
Lennon at the Central Bus Station:A melancholic story about an overprotective, overreacting mother and a child who just wanted to have a pet.
Flies and Porcupines: The loss of a son turns the life of a family upside down in a heartbreaking story.
One of the finest books of the year, exceptionally translated by Daniella Zamir.
”But I'm starting to think it isn't the country that keeps us rooted. Nor our education, friends, or family. It's something a lot more specific, much more precise. A spot in the world that pulls us in like a magnet. ”
Many thanks to Astra House Books and NetGalley for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.
My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com/
‘'But sometimes stories are all we have.''
Story to Tell Around a Campfire: The narrator instructs us how to tell the tale of Hannah and Mark, a couple who has decided to spend a weekend in a cabin with Mark's family. Whether you prefer a scary story or a romantic tale, this one is perfect!
How to Make Paper When the World is Ending: In a world that has already been altered by climate change, Erin tries not to lose hope while reminiscing about her parents and her lost hometown. A sad, yet tender story with a profound meaning.
Feeding Lucifer: A girl moves to California with her family. Anxious to spend a Hollywood summer and make as many new friends as possible, she meets Grace and her pets. Esmeralda, a rat, and Lucy, a snake. Lucy, as in Lucifer...An exceptional coming-of-age story about the need to be loved....
Goosepimples: A man is waiting for his daughter to finish practice and returns to an incident that almost ruined his life.
How My Parents Fell In Love: Beautiful. Tender. Real.
Receiptless: A man goes to a store to return his ex-girlfriend's heart, anxiously waiting to have his own back. He never expected that he would need a receipt...
Dog-Sitting: People can change your life in the blink of an eye and dog-sitting seems an effective cure to loneliness.
Frozen Windmills: A young woman has to face the implications of a new relationship and the death of her first boyfriend. A tender story about love and guilt.
How to Make Spinach-Artichoke Lasagna: A woman remembers her best friend who died in a car accident. Once more, it is all the little things, the daily moments that hurt the most when you lose someone you love.
Real Love: I am sorry but I didn't like this one at all. I loathe cover bands, I didn't find the exploitation of the legacy of The Beatles particularly tasteful and the marital woes of a John Lennon impersonator left me cold.
The Man Who Lives in My Shower: When a woman moves to a new condo following a tragic event, she does not expect to find a man residing in her bathroom...A moving story about letting go and moving on.
Tarzan: A boy resorts to silence. Nobody knows why. Is it a protest against his father's mistakes? A shield against his overprotective, controlling mother?
Pieces: A strange, immersive puzzle is the only thing that connects the young woman of this beautiful story to her dead boyfriend. One last piece...That's all. One last piece...
Sustenance: Compulsive eating and obsession over eating healthy become a metaphor for a woman's estrangement from her daughter.
Dirt: A man finds life impossible following the death of his wife...
‘'When he had his own heart back, he would begin to heal. That was how it worked. You got your own heart back, and gradually the hurt lessened, and at some point, the receipt fell out of your wallet onto the city streets, lost among old movie tickets and gum wrappers.''
My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com/
Do I need an entire collection with stories that had massive potential but were ruined by ridiculous YA writing and a plethora of ‘‘let's push our agendas'' messages?
No, I don't.
‘'If someone could look down on us from above, they'd see that the world is full of people running about in a hurry, sweating and very tired and their lost souls always left behind, unable to keep up with their owners. The result is great confusion as the souls lose their heads and the people cease to have hearts. The souls know they've lost their owners, but most of the people don't realise that they've lost their own souls.''
Αlways, always in a hurry. Wake up, get ready, eat, walk. Drive, catch the train. Shop, socialise whether you like it or not. You have to. Talk. Don't talk. Don't be inactive. Don't spend time alone. You will be branded a ‘'loner'' and a ‘'weirdo''. Listen to the fashionable mottos dictated by social media. Don't. Do. Do. Don't.
And then we forget to listen to the voice of our soul. We pay so much attention to what the others tell us and we forget to think. We concern ourselves with the opinions of others and we don't care what our own self thinks of us and our actions.
Olga Tokarczuk creates a beautiful fable about a young man who realises he has lost the only thing that really matters. His soul. So, he decides to withdraw from a society of empty words and loud demands. He decides to wait. He decides to spend the time to understand himself. Until the day a little girl appears outside his window and his garden starts growing again.
But where can we find our soul? Joanna Consejo's moving illustrations are rather telling. In a snowy field, echoing with the laughter of children, in a cafe with a hot cup of coffee and a book, in a village funfair, in a train, gazing over the fields, dreaming. Far away from those who exploit everyone and everything.
Many thanks to Triangle Square and Edelweiss for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.
My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com/
‘'Whether we fall by ambition, blood, or lustLike diamonds, we are cut with our own dust.'' The Duchess of Malfi, John Webster
May I just say that this is one of the most intriguing covers I've ever seen?
Few eras were as tumultuous and fascinating as the Jacobean times. A period that produced some of the bloodiest tragedies in British Theatre, with John Webster and Ben Johnson as the leading playwrights, an era that was sadly defined by an incompetent king, the son of a dull mother. James I thought he knew all about leadership and religion (...and witches...) when, in fact, he knew nothing about anything. Depravity, fundamentalism, superstitions are three words that can summarize his reign with significant accuracy. This is the colourful background of Fremantle's The Poison Bed, an exciting Historical Fiction novel.
Frances Howard and Robert Carr are two young people imprisoned within their personal and familial ambitions, their partners' obsession and the fickle mind of a horrible king. Soon after their marriage, which seems to be their own way to escape, a strange murder occurs in the Tower of London. One of James' protegees is found dead and our protagonists need to prove their loyalty. However, honesty has a very sketchy part to play in this unusual case.
Ιn this novel, the phrase ‘'based on a true story'' finds its proper meaning. Inspired by the unsolved case of the death of one of James' playboys, Fremantle weaves an intricate plot where this incident plays second fiddle. The focus is on human relationships with the stormy Jacobean era as the background. The manipulations of the noble families, the balance between a wife and a husband, the relationship between lovers of both sexes and their implications, the dynamics between a ruler and his subjects. These are themes that transcend the 17th century, relevant to all eras and societies. Naturally, religious disputes, witchcraft, truth and betrayal can only spice up the excellent mixture and the result is a novel that is not the same old Historical Fiction book with a ‘'fashionable'' feminist message but a powerful and well-researched journey to an age of danger, lust and, ultimately, change.
The writing style is sharp, satisfyingly faithful to the depicted period and the interactions are vivid and believable. The writer doesn't waste space to long descriptions and the scenes take place mostly indoors. What I find problematic was the almost simultaneous use of the first and the third personal pronouns within the same chapter to refer to the same person. I admit, it greatly bothered my teacher-self. In addition, I have to say that the overall result would have been even better if the actual number of pages had been diminished. There was quite a lot of repetition that did little to advance the plot.
What made me enjoy The Poison Bed so much was the impression Frances' character had on me. She is shady and cunning to the point of being manipulative and ruthless and I loved her. I love characters that are ambiguous and complex and this is a crucial factor that can make a Historical Fiction novel successful or dull. I am happy to say that Frances elevated the story and became one of my favourite heroines. Rober is a character that becomes weaker towards the end and I cannot say I was captivated by his presence. When compared to Frances every character paled.
This is an excellent combination of Historical Fiction and period thriller created by a talented writer. Despite certain technical mistakes and omissions, The Poison Bed will keep you good company, especially if you are fascinated by the many aspects of the Jacobean era.
Many thanks to Penguin UK and NetGalley for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.
My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com
‘'We are still new to this field, and we walk through them with our baby carriage in a state of confusion, like two restless vagabonds. We look up at the windmills, the way they appear against the sky like visitors from a distant time, futuristic souvenirs from other planets. They shoot up around our house like cheerful weeds, and, on the rare occasions they stand still, it's as if the globe is holding its breath for a short second, bewildered by the wind's absence.''
A young family moves to Jutland. A new community, a new professional position, a new life. In a land where short sentences are required, our narrator tries to achieve the golden balance between being a mother and a wife and a successful journalist. From obstacles such as finally getting a driving license to worries concerning baby prams and day schools, she discovers that more often than not togetherness may help you move forward and scheduling is not the be-all-end-all in life...
‘'We are all born into a story that we haven't asked to be a part of, and our lives begin with a brutal decision that was made without our consent.''
Pilgaard weaves a story with a beautiful sense of place but her themes are universal and highly relatable. Told through a charming mixture of playful, tender irony and poignant confessions, our protagonist demonstrates the familiar confusion that comes with moving to a place that seems and feels ‘'different'', the pressure and demands of motherhood, the desired ‘'normality'', the boundaries of language, the possible loss of individuality when you sacrifice the ‘'I'' for the sake of a familial ‘We'. While providing advice, she actually conveys her own thoughts, memories and fears and we get to know a delightful heroine. Because every modern woman is a heroine. You don't need legends and myths. Our mundane reality is a constant battle.
Written in a characteristic no-nonsense style, direct and raw at parts, a trait of Danish Literature, Pilgaard's novel is made for spring morning and summer afternoons when the days are long, the nights are bright, and the clamour from children, colleagues, partners and whatnot finally subsides.
‘'Our generation knows that planes can come crashing into buildings, that people can throw themselves into the sky. We understand that cells can divide in the body, that people can wear bombs under their clothes, that cars heading in the wrong direction suddenly appear on the freeways. All things must pass, but see this is a relief. Sweet Sleepless One, life is not an orderly event, but a fleeting and pointless movement around a dark room. And yet beauty can appear to us like something from another realm. A lovely poem, an unusual painting, a view that leaves us breathless. Your task is to use your time in the best possible way while you await death.''
Many thanks to World Editions and NetGalley for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.
My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com/
Dear ‘'writers'':
If you think that the world is comprised mainly of Anglo-Saxon women, if you think that you are forced to include Malala and Maya Angelou in a poor effort to appear ‘‘diverse'' while diminishing their offer in our world, if you think that the wife of a ‘'President'' who caused bloodshed in a European capital in 1999 to cover up his own dirty spots, created by his secretary's unsteady hands (or any other part of her anatomy, I don't know...) should be included in this book next to scientists, writers, activists, if you think that copying other illustrators' style is an acceptable way to create a pseudo-feminist book aimed for middle-graders, you've got it all wrong.
Please, learn some History. Google the word.
Thank you.
(Not really.)
''She's not a real girl. She's a ghost.''
''Then why can we see her?''
''We can see them. It's humans who can't.''
Sometimes we discover little gems out of nowhere. We, obsessed readers as we are, have experienced this countless times. It is one of the greatest joys of reading. So, three nights ago as I was waiting for the L.A.Clippers game to start, I started browsing Edelweiss and the title ‘‘The Ghost, The Owl'' caught my eye. Yes, well, obviously. Ghosts, owls....This had my name written all over. The only thing that made me hesitate was the fact that comics don't seem particularly appealing to me but the few times I've tried my luck with the genre haven't disappointed me. This beautiful work was no exception.
''...people don't voluntarily help others.''
The ghost of a young girl comes in a swamp. She can't remember anything from her time among the living and a young owl decides to help her discover the reason that caused her death. Naturally, they come across pure, kind-hearted people and despicable human beings who want to destroy everything and everyone that resist their vile advances. The decision of the owl is a violation of the law that forbids any kind of intervention in the lives of the humans and thus, an unusual, beautiful journey begins.
I was surprised by how poignant the plot of this comic was. Fellowship, hope, loss, the chance to survive, to defeat the evils in our life, to start again. The notion that, sometimes, you have to cross certain boundaries and ignore restrictions, otherwise you will lose yourself. I was moved and impressed by the beautiful illustrations by Sara Richard. I think they were extremely vivid- almost too vivid- and the dialogue was quite satisfying. There was a modern Gothic touch that brought the whole effort together and created a thoughtful, skillfully artistic comic.
Irrelevant Point n.1 : I was so impressed by this that I felt confident enough to try my luck with another comic titled ‘‘The Lost Path'', a story set in a strange forest. Bring all the Gothic comics to this metalhead.🤘🤘🤘
Irrelevant Point n.2 : This is the review where I disclose my favourite NBA team. Utterly useless information but I feel talkative today.🏀🏀
Many thanks to Action Lab Entertainment and Edelweiss for the ARC in exchange of an honest review.
Ridiculous, appalling, disgusting, distasteful. Awful prose, dialogue of illiterate juvenile level, characters that are less interesting than an unpainted wall. This filth has nothing to do with the Greek myth of Daphne and Apollo. This is a low-quality toilet paper.
P.S. Writers, please. Leave the Greek myths alone. They're out of your minuscule caliber.
P.P.S Male writers, if you don't know how to write an interesting heroine, focus on a cowboy or an alien. You'll do better. Possibly...
''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/
There are dozens of books dedicated to women (well-known and less so) who defined their field and couldn't care less about what society and established norms had dictated for them. Many of these books are successful, others are a bit problematic. Allow me to say that ... by Pénélope Bagieu is probably the best I've read.
Including widely diverge choices, Bagieu gives voice to women from every continent and presents their lives' work through a carefully crafted and extremely successful combination of humor, feistiness, sassiness and absolute respect. She is meticulous in her approach - she even includes thirty more rebel ladies as honourable mentions- and her illustrations are absolutely beautiful. Without further ado, let us meet women who refused to conform and became pioneers and idols in their fields.
Clémentine Delait from France: The Bearded Lady who rocked the world.
Nzinga from Ndongo (present-day Angola) and Matamba: Fierce enough to kill a few men who just didn't get her ideas of equality and social justice.
Margaret Hamilton from the USA: The Witch of Oz. Enough said.
Las Mariposas. Patria, Minerva and Maria Theresa Mirabal from the Dominican Republic: Three sisters who resisted Trujillo, the tyrant of the Dominican Republic, and gave a powerful boost to the fight for freedom.
Josephina Van Gorkum from the Netherlands: A woman who didn't succumb to the frivolous fights of different religious dogmas, her only religion being love.
Lozen, an Apache warrior and shaman: Fierce and loyal to her people's principles.
Annette Kellerman from Australia: The woman who changed swimming and liberated the world from ‘'swimsuits'' that were actually cages.
Delia Akeley from the USA: The first woman to cross the African Continent.
Josephine Baker from the USA: French Resistance Fighter, artist, philanthropist and all-around legend.
Tove Jansson from Finland: The mother of the Moomins and a brilliant artist and activist.
Agnodice from Greece: The first female gynecologist who showed the men in Athens how the job is actually done.
Leymah Gbowee from Liberia: A tireless activist who has been fighting against domestic violence. She was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize in 2011.
Giorgina Reid from the USA: The woman who saved the Montauk Point Lighthouse.
Christine Jorgensen from the USA: The first person to become widely known in the States for having sex reassignment surgery. She became an actress and a legend for the LGBTQ+ rights.
Wu Zetian from China: A legendary empress who put a stop to the ‘'rights'' of the corrupted aristocracy and provided equality and justice to her people. Ferocious and stormy.
Temple Grandin from the USA: Animal whisperer and one of the first who drew attention to the various aspects of autism, free from taboos and prejudices.
Sonita Alizadeh from Afghanistan: A young woman who uses music as a medium to speak of the injustices that have been plaguing her homeland, to speak against being sold as a ‘'bride'', against a society that lives in its own dirty bubble.
Cheryl Bridges from the USA: The woman who defied every stereotype in the world of athletics and became the first woman to finish a marathon in under 2h 50min.
Thérése Clerc from France: An activist for women's rights and dignity in old age.
Betty Davis from USA: An artist who wasn't afraid to honour sexuality and liberation.
Nellie Bly from the USA: An investigative journalist, war correspondent, explorer, etc. A pioneer in her field.
The Shaggs from the USA: Reluctant rock artists and extremely brave girls.
Katia Krafft from France: Volcanologist, explorer, scientist.
Jesselyn Radack from the USA: The lawyer who exposed Bush and his sequence of terrible lies following 9/11
Hedy Lamarr from Austria: Inventor, multi-linguist, fighter against fascism, legendary actress.
Naziq Al- Abid from Syria: An activist born in a privileged family that never forgot her roots. She fought against the Ottomans and the French conquerors. She campaigned for women's right to vote and the publication of feminist authors.
Frances Glessner Lee from the USA: Her miniatures changed Forensic Science forever.
Mae Jemison from the USA: The first black woman in space. Defying racial prejudices, she collected degrees and changed the perceptions towards environmental studies.
Peggy Guggenheim from the USA: The patron goddess of Modern Art.
It just doesn't get any better than that!
My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com/
‘'Sometimes, at night, I would light houses on fire. But noone particularly cared.''
I thoroughly enjoy the power that Dystopian Fiction has acquired of late. The vast majority of the books under this category are exemplary and even the few duds have something to offer. I cannot help but firmly believe that when all else fades, books can show us the way and through the influence of quality Literature we'll come to hear the tolling bells a little more clearly. However, there are times when a book like this one terrifies me. And the reason is simple. There are stories that are highly relevant to our times. If we subtract the speculative factor, we'll discover that the situations described can apply to any society in humanitarian, financial or social crisis. This is when the implications become brutally honest and the thoughts terrifyingly alarming. This is Barnes' The City Where We Once Lived.
‘'Nothing grows here'', I finally say. ‘'Nothing grows at all.''
The time and place of our story aren't clear. In fact, they're irrelevant. The future doesn't seem distant at all, the setting could be anywhere. The USA, the UK, Russia, Germany, it doesn't matter. We know that a devastating climate change is currently at large. The weather has become a murderer. Tornadoes and violent storms cause thousands of fatalities on a daily basis. Trees are scarce, the soil is sterile. Nature has started taking revenge for all the rapes inflicted on her by the human race. And a man lies at the centre of the story, trying to find a way either to change the inevitable or simply to survive.
‘'If you wanted to be a part of the world, why would you be here?''
The land has been divided into the North and the South End. The North End is a ghost territory, a place forgotten, neglected, a corner that the state would prefer vanquished. The government, along with the majority of the population, have moved South and only two thousand people have chosen to remain. Our main character is a journalist without a name, struggling to retain some traits of the world he knew using pen, paper and an old camera. His story is one of tragedy and loss as he tries to fight on and survive. He discovers that newcomers have started inhabiting the once abandoned sectors and, gradually, refugees from the South End arrive and the narrator's will for personal survival becomes a fight to keep the North End alive and safe.
‘'They should know what was done to people like us. And they should never forget that either.''
Along with the journalist, we meet a gardener, a minister, scavengers and a mysterious young woman with her son. Her presence is a source of light and hope, a glimpse of a possible future. Each character does his best to exorcise the demons as more issues begin to threaten whatever stability they have formed in their present lives. The fear of civil unrest is tense. Security tests fill the ghost city with the nightmarish sound of the air raid sirens. The South End is plagued by mass hysteria and in the North End teenagers are turned into thugs.
The writing is exceptional and the questions Barnes poses are hard. What do we accept as ‘'normal''? What are the limits and boundaries we are willing to surpass and break in order to survive? To what extent can we grow accustomed to a form of life that actually resembles a prison? How do we react when apathy culminates in violence fueled by injustice and discrimination? Barnes is undoubtedly talented. The narration is strangely beautiful, in a style that I find hard to describe accurately. While I was reading, I had the feeling of a world covered in mists, its veil momentarily lifted to reveal glimpses of a life that once was or to give way to a harrowing spree of desperation. You have to dig deep into the layers of this story. Don't expect ‘'action'' in the traditional sense of the word, you won't find it here.
Yet, hope still remains after all the pain and anger. It's just that there are certain wounds that are impossible for anyone to heal....
‘'Maybe they can make a new life. A new self. A new world in which all is different. All is better. But I'm not sure.''
Many thanks to Arcade Publishing and Edelweiss for the ARC in exchange of an honest review.
My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com
‘'Tonight I am alone. [...] I can think more clearly. I don't have to screen myself off to think of you. You'll say that four years, five months and fourteen days is too long to spend just thinking things over. And you're right. But it's not too long to spend thinking of you. The moon is shining, and I'm making the most of it, writing to you. It's like a balm, the moon, it always calms me. And its light, however faint, shines on the paper, which is important because at this time of night they cut off the electricity. I didn't even have moonlight, though, for the first two years, so I'm not complaining. As Aesop concluded, there's always someone worse off than you.''
Santiago is a prisoner in Montevideo. He was imprisoned for his political convictions and he has already spent four years in a cell, trying to keep sane while his wife, his daughter and his father have found shelter in Buenos Aires, away from the regime in Uruguay. In a turbulent era- the 1970s- for the entire Central and South America, we witness the struggle of a man who did nothing wrong except refusing to obey the ones in power and the way his family is trying to cope with his absence and the demands of a life away from their homeland.
‘'A life without phantoms isn't good, a life where all presences are of flesh and blood.''
The writer succeeds in giving us a sense of time and place and effectively ‘'paints'' the scenery of Buenos Aires during the 70s. The problem is that I expected a focus on the political and social circumstances that affected the lives of the citizens of Uruguay and Argentina but the result seemed very different. ‘'Exiles'', a series of entries written by an exiled writer is the finest part of the novel. It is the only section that powerfully and effectively communicates the complexities that led to dictatorships and cruel policies, along with the social and political context in Europe and the USA. ‘'Exiles'' is the heart of the novel, for me, and the entire book should have been like this. There is a beautiful haunting text about the sacred site of Epidaurus, one of the foundations of World Culture. The rest of the novel was quite disappointing.
Beatriz, Santiago's daughter, is confused. Which country can she call her ‘'home''? Uruguay, the country that drove them away or Argentina, the country that offered them refuge? Beatriz understands the world around her and is brave enough to speak up. Benedetti gives us an excellent depiction of a nine-year-old's thoughts and speech. Having said that, the writing ‘'felt'' strange in a large portion of the novel. The language ‘'sounded'' very USA-like and I think there was something missing in translation.
And now to my main issue with the novel. Characterization. Apart from Beatriz and Santiago, the rest of the characters are either indifferent or really, really irritating. Disturbingly so. Graciela, for example, Santiago's wife. She is obnoxious, unlikeable to the core, so full of herself. She has little sympathy for Santiago or her daughter. She goes on and on complaining that she ‘' doesn't need him as a man'', she doesn't want to sleep with him and so on and so forth. She dares to compare his imprisonment and tortures to the fact that she has no one to fall in bed with. She spends her time applying lipstick, combing her hair, shouting and beating her daughter, trying to find someone to f..., crying her eyes out in pretense to make everyone feel sorry for her. She is easily one of the worst female characters you'll ever encounter and her presence has a frightfully negative impact on the novel as a whole. Is she an accurate depiction of a wife left to care for a child and herself while her husband is a political prisoner? No. And if she is, then she is extremely badly written as a character. I am sorry.
My enthusiasm vanished after the 50% mark of the novel. I thought I had chosen a political-social work of fiction about the complex realities in Uruguay and Argentina, and all of a sudden, I found myself reading about an empty-headed woman's sex woes and an elderly man's frivolities with a much younger woman. This is a literary soap-opera in my books and I am not here for that. To add insult to injury, the ending is disappointing. This isn't an open-ended closure, it is the epitome of the blank. And I felt deceived having to read about love issues when the book seemed to be so much more than that. Unfortunately, my introduction to Benedetti's work was far from positive. Three stars out of respect and because of the ‘'Exiles''. And Beatriz and Santiago.
‘'It's thortum now where my dad is, and he wrote that he's very happy because the dry leaves float in through the bars and he imagines they're letters from me.''
Many thanks to Penguin Books Ltd and NetGalley for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.
My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com
‘'For as far as he could, there was only night. Ghostly light seeped from a room downstairs onto the silver of lawn. Starlight touched on the endless sweep of moor, like another sea unrolling from the line of cliffs brooding above black waves and distant headlands. There was no sign of human habitation: no distant lights, no street-lamps, no cars, no ships or lighthouse beacons: nothing.''
Shady figures, threatening atmosphere, secrets, shapeshifters, shadows. Crows, grey colours, Birds, clouds. Interesting background but this isn't enough to create a striking collection.
The Maiden Flight of McCauley's Bellerophon: A guide in the Museum of American Aviation and Aerospace wants to recreate the legendary flight of an aircraft that supposedly crashed in 1901. His motive is his love for an old flame that is about to burn out. I must admit that I was bored to tears with this story.
Near Zennor: Mainly set in Penzance, this is a wonderfully eerie story of a widower who discovers a disturbing connection in his wife's past. Ancient stones, mysterious lights in the moor, bogs, scary children's books, a potential child molester, a girl's obsession, a dark past, all set in Cornwall. This story deserves to become a novel.
Hungerford Bridge: Two old friends witness a miracle one London afternoon.
The Far Shore: A magical story of a former ballet dancer who decides to spend a few days in a friend's camp, trying to come to terms with the fact that age is suddenly upon him, and a mysterious boy. A tale of winter, birches and crows. Those who are familiar with the Finnish legend of the River of Tuoni will recognise the references. Beautiful.
‘'You do not want to make rocks angry, Justin.'' She wasn't kidding, either. She looked pissed off. ‘'Because rocks have a very, very long memory.''
Winter's Wife: A teenage boy narrates the story of a woman from Iceland who followed her husband n Maine to live in an abandoned school bus. A terrific story of Icelandic folklore, the survival of the forests, and retribution. Vala is a character you'll remember for a long time.
Cruel Up North: A woman is wandering in a city during the early morning. Mystical and cryptic.
Summerteeth: A story of obsession, love and Art.
The Return of the Fire Witch: The adventures of a witch in a fairy tale land. I can't say I enjoyed this story. It seemed naive and at the same time utterly incomprehensible.
Uncle Lou: A young woman narrates the story of her very special uncle, a man that adores travelling, Moroccan style and night. A tender story set in Hampstead, a beautiful example of Magical Realism done right.
Errantry: A strange mixture of a shadowy figure, action films and third-rate actors. Not for me.
So, a rather mixed result, this one. There were a few truly beautiful moments but nothing spectacular for readers who have read a humongous amount of Short Stories and Magical Realism. For me, this was not a memorable collection. Not ‘'frightening'' and hardly ‘'haunting.''
My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com/
”We were overturned, Mary,” I said as I strode into the room, ”and but for the kind offices of a complete stranger, should be frozen stiff, somewhere between the Winchester and Andover roads. If Mamma has not caught her death, it will be the wonder of the season – and we are all sorely in want of our dinners. Happy Christmas.”
I have read several installments in the Jane Austen Mysteries series by Stephanie Barron and I always know I am in safe hands when I choose one of her books to keep me company. The twelfth (as it were) volume of the series is a beautiful tribute to the traditions that make British Christmas so unique. The greenery, the Yule log, Snapdragon, the merriment of Twelfth Night. The writing is impeccable, proving Jane's point of view to perfection, faithful to the character and the era, and I loved reading about Jemima's wardrobe.
Why 4 stars? In my humble opinion, the mystery itself was a strange mixture of being predictable and far-fetched at the same time, the supporting cast was not particularly interesting and I was disappointed in how a certain subplot was developed. I adored Raphael West.
I started the novel on the 24th of December and finished it on the 5th of January, reading one chapter per day and it gave the festive days of Christmas a certain Regency flair.
A cozy book for the festive season and a journey to the past and how Christmas should be cherished and preserved.
This book had me all excited the very first moment I read its title. I have a great ‘‘affection'' for the paranormal and supernatural, especially for the scientific aspect of it. I started reading The Science of Ghosts at a slow pace to absorb the details and the plethora of information that Joe Nickell provided. So far, so good, eh? Not. By the time I had reached about half of the book, my excitement began to wear off.
Nickell's effort is remarkable; each chapter is embellished with photos of the people and the places ‘‘under investigation'' and the research is meticulous. However, it is one thing to state the scientific evidence in an attempt to bust the myths and another to be so dismissive, so abrupt, to accept no other truth but your own. I am aware that the writer wanted to envoke his deep scepticism over the paranormal evidence, but I strongly disliked his constant “calling names” attitude. I found his treatment of the people involved rude, full of contempt, hardly an example of what I perceive as ‘‘scientific'' writing. Instead, it reveils one who is too full of himself. It comes across as bitter and, frankly, I don't believe that each and every experience described can be explained as a result of “waking dreams''. After all, what is the evidence for it?
''Bookstores most certainly were the closest thing to heaven.''
Thirteen stories centred -in many different ways- around the Mysterious Bookshop in New York. Jilted lovers, wronged people who seek revenge, ambitious writers who try to resurrect their fame by taking advantage of the past and present, corrupted police officers, amateur sleuths, Christmas puzzles and a cognac that brings warmth and happiness to the ones who accept it without opening it.
Even if the stories do get a little bit repetitive, there are some twists and turns in this collection that fully deserve their name. Definitely one for the holiday season.
These are the experiences of Shaun Bythell, a bookseller in Wigtown in beautiful Scotland, in diary format. The working days, the interesting customers (problematic or not), the co-workers, the struggle to support a second-hand bookshop (the second largest in the country) in the era of technology, everything that makes bookselling such a fascinating and exhausting profession is included in this book. Despite the positive reviews and my high expectations, I have to say that I didn't enjoy reading this at all....
There were two things that won me over and kept me going. The experiences of the author- sometimes, they proved to be real adventures- while trying to find the most appropriate books for his shop and the stories of the people linked to them. Their deceased owners and the ones that stayed behind and had to part with the books. Some of them. The rest were cruel monsters but anyway. Another interesting part is the connection of the bookshop world with Amazon and the importance of the online market in general. It was sad to learn how a mere rating in a dubious platform could influence your overall effort despite all your hard effort. In our digitalized, fast-food era, online purchases are vital for the survival of any shop. It further cemented my conviction not to support Amazon, a stance I've been supporting for years. On a lighter note, there were certain titles that were absolutely hilarious. Not one to judge but it definitely makes you wonder why people sometimes choose specific books. Do they buy them for the sake of research or have they organised their priorities wrong? These were the most amusing features of the book, in my opinion.
Unfortunately, here end my positive thoughts regarding The Diary of a Bookseller. Apart from the content, I always pay attention to the overall tone, the ‘'voice'' of the writer, especially when it comes to Non-Fiction and in this case, there were quite a few moments that made me contemplate whether to stop reading altogether. Forgive me for saying this, but there is a fine line between sarcasm and rudeness and, in my opinion, Bythell crossed it. He didn't strike me as the most sympathetic person on the planet. I'm not referring to his behaviour towards the customers (although it was definitely questionable at times) but to his overall thoughts and assumptions. Perhaps it is a matter of cultural difference but certain parts left a sour taste in my mouth. Needless to say, the majority of the customers mentioned in the entries were excruciatingly ignorant so these were the only moments when I felt that his responses could be justified. Furthermore, I found his posh, high-brow attitude towards Fiction rather unfair and, in all honesty, tiresome and absurd. His comments over ‘'large'' (as he calls them) customers sounded problematic as did his observations over ‘'female'' customers. And truthfully, repetition over Amazon statuses or problems he had been facing with an employee day after day made this an extremely mundane read.
Perhaps the most interesting feature was the inclusion of George Orwell's quotes on books, readers and bookselling at the beginning of each chapter. I can see why many readers would enjoy The Diary of a Bookseller but the writing failed to engage me and gave me quite a few problematic moments. Therefore, I cannot possibly rate this with more than 2 stars (not that it matters, obviously) and naturally, it can't hold a candle to Jen Campbell's The Bookshop Book.
Many thanks to Melville House Publishing and Edelweiss for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.
My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com
''I know you now, even if it's only a little bit, and I know it's strange, but I didn't before, and I might never have known you unless somebody had written these lines. Who knows how many people are missing you this very minute, late at night or early in the morning, drinking tea with milk, reading about the life you had, and wondering how are your loved ones doing?''
April is a young woman, soon turning 30, living in Los Angeles. Always optimistic and gentle, smart and acutely honest, she fights with the very tangible reality of Death. The dark visitor has claimed her stepfather and her father had committed suicide years ago. As the turbulent decade of the 1990s is reaching its end, April takes on a year-long journey in the City of Angels, in a city without seasons. Spring, summer, autumn, winter. Days of changes, of holidays, of family gathering, of love and loss and sharing. Days when Death is casting his terrible shadow...
This is a quietly beautiful, tender book. Do not expect any shuttering incidents or intricate twists. This is an account, an array of snippets through the eyes of a very approachable character who contemplates on living alone and then sharing the present and the possibility of a future along with a special someone, on adult life and dealing with bitter loss. The worries of an uncertain financial situation, the Jewish traditions of her family, the noise and clutter of the big city, depression and being afraid of a new start. In essence, this novel is the narration of experiences we all have been through, issues we have been called to deal with and overcome.
The prose in Death and Other Holidays reminds me of the sweet, mellow afternoon sunlight that finds its way through the window, lending a golden glow in our room, the soft sun rays that are slowly turning dimmer as afternoon merges into evening in a late spring day. Sometimes, quietness and simplicity speak volumes...
''In the Magic Mountain, Thomas Mann describes the astronomical phenomenon where, half the year, the northern hemisphere appears inclined toward life, the days stretching longer and longer until they reach their highest point of light, the summer solstice. The calendar marks the day as the zenith of sunshine, but what's really happening is that from that point on, the North Pole begins moving farther and farther away from the sun,m toward winter, and the darkest day of the year. It has to do with position. The moment your side of the planet reaches its peak, you're already headed into the night.''
My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com/
‘'If this were the last thing you ever saw, would you be happy?''
Kathleen, a young woman who lives with her ailing grandmother, has buried herself in a town hidden in the beautiful wilderness of Pennsylvania. In a community that seems unable to understand or even to think properly, Kathleen tries to remain unnoticed and silent, burdened with a cruel past. Things take a different turn when a stranger arrives from Uzbekistan, carrying his own demons along the way. With a harsh winter as the background, this story had so much potential but unfortunately, I found it to be inconsistent and flat.
The winter setting is brilliantly depicted and the wilderness reflects the main themes of the story, secrets, threat and moral ambiguity. I appreciated the writer's effort to centre a story around morality and doubts, the fact that right and wrong isn't written in stone. This is amply demonstrated in an intriguing discussion between Kathleen and Daniil on Raskolnikov's character in Dostoevsky's masterpiece Crime and Punishment, the epitome of the ambiguous, divisive character. However, this is exactly where I felt that the writer bit more than she could chew.
‘'Sometimes people become things they didn't expect to become.''
I've been struggling to put this mildly but I'm afraid I can't. The writer's comments through Kathleen came across as mighty stupid. At least, by my standards. I mean, ‘'Unlucky German and Japanese officers...'' Unlucky? Really? How about the millions of ‘unlucky' people who were starved, captured, killed in the most horrible way imaginable, in infernos and stables of human souls during the Second World War? Am I supposed to feel bad about the Nazis? About monsters? Am I supposed to follow the logic of ‘'they were just obeying orders''? Well, no, I won't. Ever. Either the writer wants us to believe that Kathleen is more stupid that she sounds or St.Vincent herself is in some serious need a) of help, b) of a serious History lesson and c) of a writing workshop. Furthermore, the attempt to juxtapose Daniil's story with the actions of the Nazis is naive, in my opinion.
Daniil is an intriguing character. His philosophy and decisions reflect a complex individual, a character that may not be likable or trustworthy but one whose story you care about. Kathleen, on the other hand, seems boring in comparison, at least during the first half of the book. The fact that she has secrets is evident and it didn't make me more interested in her story. This comes down to the writing quality which isn't exactly award-winning, in my opinion. The dialogue is average, at best. Especially Kathleen's parts are occasionally cringe-worthy. Too many ‘'I guess'', ‘'it's okay'', ‘'kind of'', ‘'I suppose'' and so on and so forth. Daniil's dialogue is infinitely better, probably reflecting his cultural and academic background. And don't get me started on the secondary characters because they were an ordeal...In my opinion, the conclusion of the story was predictable and rather disappointing. Hollywood-bad...
So, a novel that lacks balance and writing quality. This is my overall impression upon finishing it. There were brief moments of beauty in the descriptive parts and an extremely interesting male protagonist but Kathleen and her melodramatic, repetitive story along with her absurd choices made this an indifferent read. And obviously, the problematization that I should feel pity for war criminals isn't one to resonate with me...
Many thanks to Melville House and Edelweiss for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.
My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com
‘'When you have grown up as I have, there is no security in not knowing things. In avoiding the ugliest truths because they can't be faced...Because that is what happened the last time, and that is why my siblings and I have grown up in a cursed house, children of cursed parents...''I admit I am always extremely apprehensive when I read the words ‘'overlooked'' and ‘'silenced'' when writers and blurbs refer to more obscure literary or legendary figures. ‘'Overlooked'' by whom? Myths are exactly that. Myths. They were born out of a certain era in a certain culture, many of them are firmly rooted in a reality lost in time. Sometimes, in order to serve a strange notion of political agenda or simply because they have no new ideas of their own, writers return to established legends and classics with the excuse that they want to bring something ‘'undiscovered'' into the light. The results vary, in my opinion. There have been a few exemplary works born in the hands of writers with vision and respect and the necessary chops to carry out the task. The Children of Jocasta is a novel that wanted to present a version of the Oedipus cycle. In my opinion, the potential was there but the characters were rather inadequately treated by Haynes.I won't insult your intelligence by narrating the myth of Oedipus. I trust all of us to know it well (otherwise why are we here, right?) and it is possible that you have watched one or two performances of the plays written by Sophocles (primarily) and Aeschylus or the 1944 masterpiece Antigone by Jean Anouilh. Here, the story is narrated by Jocasta and her youngest daughter, Ismene, who dwells in the shadows of her dead parents. We watch Jocasta's course from her marriage to Laius and we walk with Ismene until the events culminating in the conflict between Eteocles and Polynices and the closure of a family that became a toy in the hands of the gods. Does Haynes manage to breath new life in one of the most well-known legends? My answer would be yes and no.The prose is sharp and vivid and the city of Thebes comes alive with its palace as the focus of the action. The dialogue is well-constructed despite the few contemporary elements included. It flows and successfully communicates the personality of each character. What I found extremely annoying, though, was the fact that Ismene became Isy, Antigone became Ani, Haemon became Hem and so on. It's absolutely impossible to find short versions of these names (or any other name for that matter) in Ancient Greece. We don't even use shortened names all that much even now, so this choice was rather problematic. The fact that this is a retelling taking place in the original context, in the original era doesn't allow for such troubling poetic license.In my opinion, when we deal with such well-known stories, the focus should be placed on the depiction of the characters because the chain of events and its climax will probably the same, more or less. Right? Wrong. In Haynes' novel, problems exist in both characterization and storyline. In terms of the characters, the main victim was Antigone. She starts rather badly and Haynes grants her a few dubious motives that didn't seem faithful to the original or plausible enough to convince me that the changes were justifiable. If one of the aims of the novel was to turn Ismene into an interesting figure by altering the original material, I have to say that I wasn't convinced about it either. Ismene doesn't come across as a coward but as a sensible young woman. However, forcibly turning her into a ‘'heroine'' doesn't change the fact that she remains indifferent and plain. As indifferent as she is in the tragedy, albeit a bit more active. In fact, the parts related to Oedipus and Jocasta's children were not as interesting as the narrative about their tragic parents. Jocasta is a powerful figure when she comes into her own, gifted with beautiful dialogue, and Oedipus is a worthy counterpart. Creon is the usual scum, his wife is irritating, Haemon is an absolute idiot. Eteocles and Polynices are quite underdeveloped. In addition, I wasn't convinced with the writer's choice over the dispute between the two brothers but this is a myth and the treatment of myths certainly allows a few liberties. What I cannot agree with is the forced change of vital parts of the legend. I consider it an audacity and I am absolutely narrow-minded about it. So, this is a subjective opinion but I won't sugarcoat omissions and dubious twists and turns just for the sake of the ‘'new''. ‘'New'' isn't always appealing or successful.This novel stands as a rather average material next to the haunting original legend. I could consider this a moderate success. But many things were missing and when compared to its source, I cannot help being critical. Add the fact that in Greece we are raised with myths like Oedipus and Antigone (all different versions of their stories) and the bar is immediately raised too high. I appreciate her admitting of ‘'playing fast and loose with the myth'' but I cannot agree. Not that my opinion matters but anyway. Having said that, I rather liked Haynes' writing style (in strictly literary terms) and I look forward to A Thousand Ships.If you want to read an exceptional novel focused on Jocasta, try [b:Jocasta: The Mother-Wife of Oedipus 10332309 Jocasta The Mother-Wife of Oedipus Victoria Grossack https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1327420292l/10332309.SX50.jpg 15234846] by Victoria Grossack and Alice Underwood.My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com