Bronwyn Knox

Rock musicians (glam rock!), science fiction, and humor are three of my favorite things. I was looking forward to the book and thought for sure it would be a winner. Valente has a solid imagination, a way with words, and a unique, quirky sense of humor.

The majority of Space Opera was whimsical wordplay and fantastic descriptions and not a lot of plot or interesting/believable characters. I see all the comparisons to Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy and I get it, especially when she imitates or creates homage to Adams with lines like this:

“Life is beautiful and life is stupid. This is, in fact, widely regarded as a universal rule not less inviolable than the Second Law of Thermodynamics, the Uncertainty Principle, and No Post on Sundays.”

That bring to mind this:

“The story so far:
In the beginning the Universe was created.
This has made a lot of people very angry and been widely regarded as a bad move.”
― Douglas Adams, The Restaurant at the End of the Universe

The Hitchhiker's Guide was also not so strong on plot, I will admit, but Trillion, Zaphod, Marvin, etc., were all vivid characters and Arthur was the “ordinary” guy that served as our guide through Adam's absurd galaxy.

I can't say I'm going to remember Space Opera's lead characters Oort or Decibel Jones (except maybe their weird names) for much of anything. The “superior” alien beings are even less memorable. Other than appearances, it's hard to tell one from the other. They all have a kooky-yet-condescending vibe when dealing with the earthling protagonists. (That was another thing about Hitchhiker's, the aliens looked down on Arthur but the readers knew he had something to offer.)

Instead of letting the reader experience the fantastic new galaxy through the eyes of say, Oort, and seeing the changes it makes on the character, we get countless ways of saying a planet is dark. The first chapter, instead of setting up a story, is nine pages on the notion of who is and who isn't sentient, and just who are we to decide that anyway. The sentience question is a major theme of the book, but I got the point after a paragraph or two. The humans in this story are objects of an agenda and not the focus of compelling storytelling.

This is very similar to the way I felt about Valente's Radiance. It seems with this author, no matter how appealing her concept is, there will be a lot of time spent on zany wordplay for its own sake. What amused me at the start wore me out by the end, and I was glad to see the last page.

There is little plot but there is character development in the form of Johnnie Rico going from impulsive deciding to join the military, to choosing it as a life career to leading a platoon in a battle.

It is not my thing, as I find the endless military procedure, details, structure, etc. very boring. Yes, there's aliens, spaceships, and fantastic technology, but the science fiction seems almost superfluous here.

Heinlein had a fun, easygoing writing style so it's not as dry of a read as making it out to be.

Superficially it appears to be a celebration of military, war, and discipline but there is a more important point that he was getting to, one of responsibility to the group (family, colleagues, fellow citizens of where you live, etc.) as opposed to focusing on yourself as an individual.

“Under our system every voter and officeholder is a man who has demonstrated through voluntary and difficult service that he places the welfare of the group ahead of personal advantage.”

Violence is horrifying and should be a last resort, but I think Heinlein was emphasizing the notion of making sacrifices to a greater good rather than glorifying war.

After my American Lit class in high school, I mainly thought of Poe as an influential horror and mystery writer. (Not to mention the source of those great Corman/Vincent Price movies.) I was happily surprised to discover in this collection Poe's sense of humor.

Here's a few that caught me off guard because their entertaining absurdity:

In “Loss of Breath” the narrator loses his breath and is mistaken for dead, resulting in many misadventures.

In “Never Bet the Devil Your Head” the narrator's friend, Dammit (Yup, that's his name), keeps using the expression “I bet the devil my head....” Dammit bets he can jump a bridge. The devil shows up and you can imagine where this goes...

In “Angel of the Odd” the titular angel torments a man with improbable accidents.

In “The System of Doctor Tarr and Professor Fether” the narrator visits a mental institution to visit and finds that the lunatics literally took over the asylum.

“X-ing a Paragrab” is a tale of two newspapermen having a “war” in print with lots of wordplay using x's and o's.

I loved the stories I knew, like “The Tell-tale Heart,” “The Black Cat,” and “The Fall of the House of Usher,” etc. But it was nice to be surprised by some of the odd stories that I didn't know before reading this collection.

Lots of fun to read with loads of good twists and surprises.

It is a bit like a Heinlein book with the notions of optimism/sacrifice and the friendly, first-person narration. It isn't as weird as Heinlein could get.

Almost makes me wish I'd been better at math/science!

This is a wonderful idea for a story. I'm also one of those that came to this book as a fan of Daisy and the Six. It was generally a pretty good read, especially the beginning chapters when the author develops the childhoods and backgrounds of Opal and Nev.

I would have appreciated a bit more development of relationships, especially the friendship between Opal and Nev. It was hard to feel the sting of betrayal when I had little sense of the stakes. I can't blame the “interview” format because Daisy had a similar format and I had a much better understanding of the relationships there.

As another reviewer pointed out, this isn't really for music fans. The fact that they're musicians trying to make it as rock and rollers is secondary to all the social, political, and personal stuff that is happening. Opal is a singer/songwriter but mostly what she wants is to be seen and heard; music is secondary. She's an iconoclast, not someone who's driven to express themselves musically.

Daisy and the Six had a lot more freedom to be humorous, music-focused, and entertaining, because while there was a subtext of feminism present, the overall story was not political. With this one, the music is definitely secondary to the political/social commentary.

Nothing but wonderful storytelling and well-developed characters here. Undersea gods are not the most original of monsters, but I thought Deeplight handled it in a unique way, a new look at an old mythology type.

I had a few doubts about how the “science” of things worked, but nothing that spoiled my suspension of disbelief or enjoyment of the book.

This never really got off the ground for me. I don't require being dazzled every five seconds; I can appreciate a moody-and-atmospheric psychological tale. But this wasn't it. Things never got any weirder than say, Lewis Carroll's [b:Through the Looking-Glass and What Alice Found There 83346 Through the Looking-Glass and What Alice Found There (Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, #2) Lewis Carroll https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1359299332l/83346.SY75.jpg 45962572]. The author seemed to avoid taking any risks, anything actually happening that would have to be worked out.I did like the “unreliable” main character, she had a brain and a sense of humor. I was interested in knowing more about her relationship with her girlfriend. As presented, the emotional climax of that storyline wasn't earned. There was a jarring bunch of typos. This isn't why I gave the book two stars, I'm strictly going on content here. But there was a noticeable page with glaring mistakes, like using “they're” when they meant “their” etc., that any proofreader would have caught. Since it was the character's journal we were reading, maybe this was supposed to be a clever way of showing her mental disintegration? If so, it was way too subtle and was only distracting and annoying.

Weird book, and I do like 'em weird.

It had shades of Alice in Wonderland, though the blurb mentions Gulliver's Travels. I also see the Wizard of Oz comparisons, as well as Piranesi and any book or movie where a character is taken out of the real world and has to learn the rules of a new one.

I understood what was happening/had happened about half way through so I'm guessing there isn't meant to be a twist factor. After I figured it out, the rest of the story was spent waiting for the narrator to do the same.

I might have liked it more if I had empathized with her. She was more likable when confused and I could root for her to figure out the puzzle, both external and internal. Moments when she would suddenly act out scenes from her past you see a neurotic person involved in a toxic relationship. This does help put together a story but it is so extreme that it feels like a cliche, maybe because it's a one-sided view of the relationship.

There are certain elements to this that I still don't get —Cylvia's transformation, all the quantum physics stuff. Perhaps that is the genius of the book, and I'll just be walking along some day and suddenly the meaning will hit me.

I was looking for some new spooky books to launch the Halloween season. This didn't end up fitting the criteria, though it had some fun moments. I'm a former theater kid so a book about the theater is always a treat.

Horror should have some spookiness, tap into primal fears in some way. All's Well is more about vanity, self-involvement, and the general disappointment of reaching middle age and realizing your life didn't work out how you wanted. Nothing too exotic, nothing from beyond or beneath or even deep within. Certainly relatable though.

No matter how much we should feel for someone suffering chronic pain, Miranda's first person narration is tedious at the start. Clearly, Awad wants us to be annoyed with Miranda, mirroring her friends', ex's, and colleagues' experience in dealing with her. This setup takes up much of the first quarter of the book. I wasn't sure I would make it through.

When the supernatural element of the plot kicks in, All's Well starts to really cook. Her neurosis and paranoia (everyone is suspicious of her, thinking about her all the time, right?) ratchet up several notches. It's a real page-turner at this point as her theater production, the smiting of her enemies, and her love life all go her way. Her life improves at the expense of other people and yet she's experiencing a protracted nervous breakdown. All we need now is a surprising but inevitable conclusion, right?

Just when you're expecting this to build into something spectacular, some darkly humorous climax, all the conflicts are gently washed away. Awad decides to back off what was set up early on, which is a shame because it had some genuine tension and absurd moments that were almost funny in their extremity.

Novel set in a dystopian United States where a large portion of the population is dying from insomnia. Sleep is a commodity that can be donated, quantified, bought and sold, etc. Nightmares are contagious physically and can infect others from one source.

Russell is a writer with great versatility and imagination. I've read a collection of her short stories and her YA novel. I'd love to see a novel from her aimed at adults.

This book has it all: history, drama, magic, romance, conflict, action and touches of humor. There are interesting characters to root for or to hate. I really loved reading this and did not want it to end.

The story is set up as a rivalry between two magicians, Strange and Norell. Strange doesn't show up until a fourth of the way in, but you're already on his side before you meet him. Norrell is vain, secretive, paranoid, elitist, and cowardly. Plus he's a liar and a hypocrite who quietly sits by and takes no responsibility when his own action causes so much suffering. Strange on the other hand is self-involved, impulsive, and neglectful but also brave, witty, and resourceful. Much easier to like.

It's almost perfect but short of five stars for me because the rivalry story was not as tightly wound into the story of the actual villain as I would have liked. When it comes to the climatic moments of the story, heroic actions that should have been taken by Strange or Norrell go to other supporting characters, making it just short of perfectly satisfying. (There's nothing wrong with a book that doesn't go the conventional route with character development, it just didn't work for me in this particular case.)

This story builds very slowly, which I liked because it did build into something completely worth the investment of time.

But even the parts before the monster reveal were enjoyable. Noemie is a likeable heroine, she is smart, quick, brave, but makes a lot of mistakes and has room for self doubt. The early book was about her coping with no longer being in a place where she's popular, loved and protected. She has to deal with the strict rules and humorless personalities of her mysterious hosts.

She also has to think of someone besides herself, her cousin who is ill, in a vulnerable position, and unable to get out of the trap of her marriage. You get the idea that Noemie has never had to take responsibility before and has previously only had to consider her own wants. Watching her struggle, fail, and work up the courage to try again, as well as figure out what is right from wrong was what the early bit of the story was all about. It could be a good YA book for the older end of that age group.

Once the monster part takes off it's wonderfully weird and creepy. That was a good surprise because I was starting to wonder if we were going to get out of the pattern of Noemie having weird dreams in between creepy encounters with her cousin's unpleasant and controlling in-laws.

Fun monster story with romance, thrills, and a good character arc.

Unclear how this gets placed in the horror genre, other than that the author has written some other horror books. This is a classic road story with some admittedly weird elements. McCammon really gets to me. So far I've been sucked right into every book of his I've picked up. The genre is irrelevant.

I love that the antagonist is as interesting and sympathetic as the protagonist. As I read it, I wasn't exactly rooting for Flint to catch Dan, but I was very invested in what would happen to him and Pelvis.

Every character involved in the chase is a freak or unusual in some way, and every character has suffered. They are all looking for some sort of “prize” that is going to either temporarily or permanently solve their problems, soothe their soul.

The ending might be a bit idealized given the terrible things that preceded it, but it works because of how extreme (in the best possible way) the story and characters are. If it had ended with a whimper, not a bang, that would have been a waste.

Dark urban fantasy version of Alice in Wonderland. Sounds great to me, right in my wheelhouse. Nice touch opening it in an insane asylum. If only it lived up to my expectations.

Other than the character names, this bears no resemblance to the source material. Characters have no personality, nothing even close to the original which is packed with weird, colorful characters. There is very little humor to be found, which is certainly one of things I loved best about the original.

But, let's say I forget about comparing it to the source material and think of it as a book on its own merits. Alice seems like an outline with dialogue, nothing is developed. The two main characters, Alice and Hatcher (who I assume is the Mad Hatter) have conveniently lost their memories, therefore the author doesn't have to develop character motivation. When convenient, suddenly they will remember part of their backstory to serve the plot. Hatcher and Alice know what to do based on dreams and visions instead of earning or learning anything. Dreams and visions are a weak device at the best of times and certainly shouldn't be used to replace character development. Not to mention that these people have no personality to speak of.

Mostly, Alice and Hatcher roam around the Old City (the crime-ridden part of a fantasy version of New York) and meet different evil and powerful denizens of this world. Except they're basically all the same. They look different and have different lairs, but can't tell you how they otherwise standout from each other. The Big Bad doesn't even get enough interaction to develop a personality.

The “dark fantasy” part revolves around the rape, torture, selling etc. of women and girls. No other crimes. All the baddies are men who want to consume women in some way or another. No other motivations from the villains, other than generic desire for “power.” Since this abuse of women isn't given any emotional resonance, it feels like a cheap trick.

I'm glad the book was short and fast moving. The ending itself though, was another problem. In the final conflict, Alice (who discovers at a convenient moment earlier that she is a magician) realizes she can just wish things to happen and uses this to dispatch with the person they've been chasing all this time. A bit anticlimactic, even though I wasn't that into the story, I expected a bit more to the final conflict after all the time spent on the setup.

I liked this fun, genre-crossing book. It's weird science combined with a standard noir mystery.

The science fiction part of the book comes into play with a medical treatment that allows an elderly, sick, or injured person to regenerate their bodies to a youthful, healthy state. The side effect is that they restart the growth process and end up larger than the largest humans. Around 7+ feet as a starting point.

Of course it is only the ultra-rich who can afford this treatment, and those that are well connected to the scientific corporation that created it. Generally, if I think about the very rich, I consider the fact that money can't buy you out of the eventual aging, disease, and death which gets everyone at some time. Harkaway has come up with an idea that would remove this great equalizer–with consequences to themselves and the rest of the world.

The plot is average to good with no great surprises or stunning moments. There's a murder and the protagonist, Cal Sounder, is a detective who tries to solve it. If you took away the science fiction elements it would no longer be unique.

I enjoyed reading this a lot. One of the pros is the narrator, Cal “I'm not a cop” Sounder who is empathetic and resourceful and engages the reader with his thought process. His specialty is dealing with the “Titans” who have taken the age-reversing medical treatment and acting as sort of a go between these larger-than-life humans and the law. He is not one of them but knows them on a personal level. Because of this, Sounder is often between a rock and a hard place while trying to solve the mystery, which is how most of these noir detective stories go.

The dynamic and humorous dialogue is my favorite part of the book and, besides the premise, is what makes Titanium Noir stand out.

Harkaway is one of my favorite current authors. Compared to some of his previous work, this was surprisingly economical with words. I really enjoyed [b:The Gone-Away World|3007704|The Gone-Away World|Nick Harkaway|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1328322676l/3007704.SX50.jpg|3038235] and [b:Angelmaker|12266560|Angelmaker|Nick Harkaway|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1326121401l/12266560.SX50.jpg|14751763], but both were twice the length and went into backstory rabbit holes. Titanium Noir he kept it lean and mean.

Clearly there is social commentary going on here with the rich finding a way to escape some of the harsh reality of life and the concern about what this would do to the earth's resources if the treatment became widely available. I do appreciate that Harkaway doesn't demonize the rich completely, though the Titans have lost touch with humanity. All the characters are written with some layers and there isn't a simple morality or message.

Absurd tale involving anthropomorphized rabbits and other creatures used to make social/political commentary. Obvious commentary is not my favorite thing but this was truly funny and the characters are vivid. It felt very “British” to me. (This is subjective; I don't have a set of standards to explain what makes me think so.) Not that the US doesn't face similar social/political issues, or that I couldn't relate but I get the sense if I'd grown up in the U.K. it would have had a different impact on me.

The narrator, Peter Knox is a fearful, nervous, and mild-mannered middle-aged man who desperately needs to keep his job, even if he doesn't agree with the morality of the place he works for. In other words: relatable. Peter feels powerless amidst all the absurdity around him and needs to be pushed to take a stand. Most of the tension revolves around anti-rabbit groups vs. rabbit activists, populated by characters that appear much more sure of themselves than Peter, and Peter's romantic feelings for a female rabbit named Connie.

There's a lot of jokes in the book I would consider to be “meta,” including the Event that caused the animals to morph in the first place. One of the suggested explanations of this Event is “satire” as though satire were a force of nature rather than a literary concept. There's also the running gag of making fun of the author's last name and the sly references to Dr. Seuss's Fox in Socks. All of this is to say that Fforde never lets you get “lost” in the story; you're always aware of the devices.

It's a fun novel, very entertaining, even if I do feel a bit lectured at times.

“The decent humans are generally supportive of doing the right thing,' said the Venerable Bunty, ‘but never take it much farther than that. You're trashing the ecosystem for no reason other than a deluded sense of anthropocentric manifest destiny, and until you stop talking around the issue and actually feel some genuine guilt, there'll be no change.' ‘Shame, for want of a better word, is good,' said Finkle. ‘Shame is right, shame works. Shame is the gateway emotion to increased self-criticism, which leads to realisation, an apology, outrage and eventually meaningful action.”

Uses humor and a well-paced, well-structured plot to explore identity, tribalism, and race in America. Mixed-race Warren Duffy, the narrator, grew up with strong views about his identity as a black man. His teenage daughter comes back into his life after the death of her mother and Warren is responsible for her education. Helping her figure out who she is throws him into a complicated internal and external struggle about what it means to have mixed heritage.

Duffy has a list of other problems besides these, recently divorced, no career prospects and in debt to his ex-wife, and saddled with a large house that is roofless and crumbling. A lot of the humor comes from Duffy's narration in the form of self-deprecating humor and his ability to see the absurdity in the situations he gets into. All the characters in Loving Day are well done but Duffy in particular is relatable, even though he is frequently a jackass.

There's plenty of dramatic plot points and the story ratchets up nicely to a climax that is satisfying and makes good use of all that came before.

I especially appreciated the ability of the writer to show characters' conflicting viewpoints, both internal and with each other, in a way that felt genuine to them. No once did he fall into the trap of preaching or telling readers how to think.

I always look forward to a collection of Stephen King novellas, ever since Different Seasons, one of my all time favorite books. It seems to be a format in which King really shines.

This collection did not disappoint. My favorite was “The Life of Chuck” which had an unusual structure in terms of the order of events as well as being a bit like nesting dolls. It was not something I would expect from King. Very nicely done.

“The Life of Chuck” as well as “Rat” and “Mr. Harrigan's Phone” all had a bit of a Harlan Ellison feel to me, which is a good thing.

Of course, there's the Holly Gibney story. She's a fantastic fictional heroine and I was happy to read more about her in the title story.

The best book in the series since the first one. Instead of just exploring the Long Earth's, here we get antagonists, real conflicts, and some interesting revelations.

We learn more about the history of the “natural steppers,” ancestors of Sally and Joshua. There's an interesting parallel between how the the British government treats the steppers and how the human governments of the Earth and Low Earths tried to treat the Next.

The big bad in this book are a group of very alien beings that the humans can't communicate with so a more extreme solution is required. Humans and Next have to work together and real sacrifices have to be made to save the future of the Long Earth.

Really satisfying. And as always the writing style makes these books a pleasure to read.

Very enjoyable to read, though not as tightly structured as It Devours, the next book in the series.

The writing style, combining poetry, philosophy, and humor in the narrative is the standout element. The characters are also very engaging and relatable. I cared about Diane in particular, as I am currently a mother of a teenager and thought the authors really nailed all the emotions and the struggles.

The plot itself meandered quite a bit in the middle. Lots of time spent for the protagonists getting nowhere and having fruitless conversations. That was frustrating. Then, towards the end, it got good. So good that I was chilled to the bone at one point and to shake myself back to reality!

The thing I wonder about is how interesting this book is to those that didn't listen to the podcast. For me, the podcast was an acquired taste. The satire wore thin, in the sense that I got the point of it, however clever it was, and I needed the plot to pick up and attachment to characters to develop in order to remain interested.

The storyline in the novel is entirely discrete from the podcast. You don't “need” it to follow along. The characters featured here are background citizens of the town relative to the podcast. The novel does a pretty good job of conveying the weird, X-files-y town, with the expected absurd humor and surreal imagery. However, some of the things referred to might be more fun for those who are already familiar with Night Vale.

If you haven't listened to the podcast, but you are up for something offbeat and different, this is certainly worth a try and maybe a good introduction if you're curious about the overall series.

I was afraid this would be one of those Dresden-file episodes that is just one tedious action scene after another. It is actually mostly one long action sequence but fortunately I didn't find it terribly boring (most of the time).

Battle Ground felt a bit like Marvel's Infinity War/Endgame where every character that was ever in the series makes an appearance and all are fighting a common super-powerful entity. So many characters make the experience less intense and lacking in sharp focus.

Still, I was more engaged with the battle than I thought I'd be. There were some dramatic moments and twists that were unexpected and well done.

There were also twists/drama that made no sense based on real-life logic or what we know of the characters and therefore were transparently intended to create drama and set up the conflicts for future installments.

Generally, Butcher keeps me hanging on.

This is a very clever book, one that I'll remember for structure and style, rather than one of those that got under my skin and made an emotional impact.

Tremblay knows his stuff, he alludes to classic horror novels in a winking way to build up the story for A Head Full of Ghosts.

The blog posts were a nice meta touch, well integrated, and showing a breakdown and criticism of the very story we are reading. The media focus reconciles nicely with the reality-tv exposure plot. The story is more about a television show exploiting a teenage girl and her family and less of an actual story of a disturbed teenage girl. You can just imagine every cheesy graphic and piece of cheap dramatic music that the network put into this fictional documentary.

My interpretation is on the cynical side; the father and the priest were motivated by money/attention to the church respectively. Whether Marjorie is or isn't possessed is clearly not the most important thing given how quickly the psychiatric treatment possibility is blown aside from the family's lack of finances. It's a Breaking Bad sort of situation where a desperate man turns to desperate means to get control of his life and family–in this case a televised exorcism.

Is the book scary? For me, not especially. It is more of an intellectual than emotional ride. I had a lot of fun but I didn't get worked up enough to feel the “chill.” Having the kid, Merry, be at the center did make some disturbing moments though. I felt that vulnerability and helplessness at the idea of something happening to a child.

Part of my emotional distance came from not quite buying into Merry as a character at either stage in her life. Merry as a little girl reads as someone's idea of a “whimsical child” stereotype. Merry as a 23-year old suffers from arrested development. Rather than suggest Tremblay doesn't know how to write girls, I can make sense of this in my head on both counts: Merry is an unreliable narrator and we're seeing her memory of a traumatic childhood experience and of course these are incidents that might have stunted her emotional development. She's an homage to We Have Always Lived in The Castle's Merricat so this presentation makes sense and stays true to the theme of the book.

The twist ending also works well with the theme of uncertainty. What's real and what isn't? What really happened and what is manipulated for the sake of entertainment?

Interesting idea for a story but I wanted more than a YA love triangle, especially one that was among three such lightweight characters.

It was basically very readable, the plot was entertaining enough for me to want to see how it would end for Addie one way or the other. In the midpoint when we meet Henry, I was curious about him until his secret was discovered. Those things kept me going.

One aspect that could have been explored in a meaningful way was the reasons for Addie's initial bargain. For her freedom and immortality, she trades the idea of being remembered by others. When she's out of their sight, she's out of their minds.

What she's avoided is the idea of growth and change, of growing up and taking responsibility. She wants to stay a child, exploring and dreaming. Part of responsibility is affecting people and living with the consequences for better or worse. Young people in her time didn't get the same opportunity to be teenagers and students that privileged kids in the 20th-21st century get.

Schwab doesn't dive deep into the potential danger of Addie's life or the meaning of a life without responsibility. Instead, Addie feels cheated out of lasting romance and prevented from making a mark on the world as an artist. These are certainly things she's lost but these are romantic and superficial notions. I would have liked to have seen some chapters that were mini-stories in which Addie really had to struggle and suffer.

I fervently wish that the devil or darkness character had had more menace and been a lot more fun. I do not see what he and Addie see in each other Also, Henry's reason for making a deal with the devil was dull and not believable. Everyone gets dumped, dude.

This is an enormously popular book and many mentioned the beautiful language as a reason for liking it. I found the prose to be a bit much. Schwab uses figurative language to the degree that it stops being evocative and gets in the way of telling the story. She also overuses incomplete sentences as a way of creating emphasis.

It's a bit like poetry rather than a traditional style. In a way, I get why people would like it. It might be my own failing since I'm not a big poetry lover.

Really had me on the edge of my seat but not as good as [b:The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo 2429135 The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (Millennium, #1) Stieg Larsson https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1327868566l/2429135.SX50.jpg 1708725]. I know it's a thriller about “men who hate women” and some broad strokes are acceptable. I didn't take this terribly seriously, but there were some distracting elements that took me out of the story.For example, apparently in this world only women are victims of the sex trade/ trafficking. I'm pretty sure in reality there are male prostitutes who are victimized. But a character in [b:The Girl Who Played with Fire 5060378 The Girl Who Played with Fire (Millennium, #2) Stieg Larsson https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1351778881l/5060378.SX50.jpg 6976108] actually makes this statement about crimes against sex workers: “It's not often that a researcher can establish roles along gender lines so clearly. Girls–victims; boys perpetrators.”” There is a lack of subtlety in the supporting characters. When Lisbeth gets into trouble, every character who believes she is guilty is a homophobic misogynist per their behavior and dialogue. Since Lisbeth feels so real to me, it's a shame other characters can't have more complexity.

Well, this is about this house, and...

Wait, no, there's this guy they call Piranesi...

Piranesi is in this giant labyrinth of many halls that has doors and windows and also has oceans, birds and fish, and many statues. As he maps out and studies his environment, he rediscovers how he got there in the first place and interacts with some extremely unpleasant academic types.

Part of the mystery is figuring out the situation itself, and the reader learns along with Piranesi.

Whatever it's about, Clarke is a very skilled writer and this is a beautiful book. I was enthralled with this right from the start. It's a unique little novel, I don't think I've read another I could compare to it.

Selfishly, I wish she were a bit more prolific. But to paraphrase Harlan Ellison, it's easier to read than to have ideas.