Bronwyn Knox
This is a page-turner with a fast moving, action-oriented plot and an exciting ending. I was curious to read this for the premise, a noir-ish private eye in a supernatural urban setting.
It didn't really live up to the book that was in my head. Butcher gives wizard/P.I. Dresden a naive, adolescent “voice” as the narrator. It doesn't fit with a character that is supposed to be an experienced, trained, and clever detective with a reputation. Seen through his eyes there is not much depth to the supporting characters either. Dresden tells us way too many of his thoughts. He doesn't leave the reader much room to form their own ideas and impressions. Some of the plot points seemed forced and predictable.
Having said all that, I could read more from this series. I heard they get better as they go along, and Storm Front was an easy, fun diversion.
I've read a few of Dick's novels, but this is my first time checking out one of his short story collections. They were not as engrossing as his longer works.
The stories are very short indeed; 27 of them in a book of less than 400 pages. Mostly they are just concepts with a twist. The characters don't matter much and are not memorable.
In the introduction by Norman Spinrad, he explains that these stories were written between 1952-55, before Dick's first novel. He describes them as having a “repetitive, sameness” and show the author “staking out his own territory.” That sounds about right to me.
A few themes that repeat throughout the stories are Cold War paranoia, fear of destructive effects of the future and technology, and marital strife.
A few stories that did stand out for me or are worth noting were:
“The Cookie Lady”: A variation on Hansel and Gretel in which an old lady tempts a little boy with cookies and cannibalizes his youth. My favorite in the collection.
“Behind the door”: A paranoid marital-strife fantasy with a cuckoo clock.
“Prominent Author”: A man discovers and becomes a god to a tiny civilization.
“We Can Remember it for You Wholesale”: The story upon which the film Total Recall was based.
“Trouble with Bubbles”: People build tiny living worlds and destroy them for a pastime.
“Adjustment Team”: Story was the inspiration for the film The Adjustment Bureau, though more loosely than Total Recall.
The concept of The City & the City is the hero of this novel. Two cities, Beszel and Ul Qoma occupy the same physical space but are treated as two different geographical areas. Sometimes citizens of one city will see buildings, residents, events occurring in the other city but they are trained to ignore it. In fact, it is illegal to acknowledge or interact with anything from the other city.
Breaking this law is known as “breach.” There is an entire branch of law devoted to arresting and retraining citizens that commit this “crime.” That was the most fascinating part of The City & the City. It seems to me that making it illegal to acknowledge what your senses tell you is a kind of mental fascism, a 1984-ish thought police style of intellectual tyranny. The residents of the city have been indoctrinated to put up with ignoring or denying reality.
It took quite a while for me to get oriented as to what the arrangement of the two cities was and what it meant. In fact, if you read the book without reading the blurb on the back or any other synopsis material, you might be lost for several chapters.
The story is a murder mystery that incorporates the concept: a murder takes place in one city and the body is found in the other. However, the plot isn't that interesting as it plays out. It's surprisingly predictable coming from the mind of the writer who created such a wonderful premise. There aren't any especially memorable characters, even the lead investigator Borlu, isn't that well defined.
This neurotypical found Oryx and Crake surprisingly humorous, especially for the dystopia-to-apocalypse variety of science fiction.The world Atwood created starts out with people in a corporate-dominated society, who have no freedom, no fresh food, no regard for humanity, and the WORST PART no value for any kind of art or romantic love. Humanity just puts up with it, which is the most devastating thought of all. (Okay, there is a resistance movement but we don't know much about them.) That doesn't sound so amusing but something in the way Jimmy/Snowman tells the tale makes it that way. The so-called genius known as Crake has a negative fixation with sex and sexuality which is over-the-top to the point of being funny. For instance, when a clinical trial participant of a Viagra-like pill called “Blysspluss” gets a giant genital wart over her entire body, I have to figure Atwood is pulling my leg. Nothing in [b:The Handmaid's Tale 38447 The Handmaid's Tale (The Handmaid's Tale, #1) Margaret Atwood https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1578028274l/38447.SY75.jpg 1119185] led me to believe that Atwood had any sense of humor whatsoever but maybe I misjudged her. Anyone who can find the humor in dark topics is tops with me.
From her bio, we can see that Miller really knows her stuff when it comes to Greek mythology. The writing for Song of Achilles is grounded, a focused, realistic story about the heroes as people. The chapters with Achilles and Patroclus as children through the beginning of their romance were compelling.
After that, I have to admit I lost interest. The Characters and their relationship don't evolve much from childhood. Any tension in the story is not between them. Briseis offering to bear Patroclus children doesn't make a conflict, especially since it's blown off. Generally, both men seem defanged from the Iliad.
I like Greek mythology, and that might be part of my problem with trying to love this book but not being able to do so; I have a strong idea in mind of what the characterizations should be and Song of Achilles doesn't fit that. The pair are gentle, misunderstood victims of fate. Patroclus is the most passive, and feels more like Achilles' pet. (One of the Greek warriors even refers to him as a “pet rabbit.” He exists for Achilles alone, no other purpose or drives. His inner monologue that he intends to die when Achilles does tells me that this is Miller's intention.
I'm guessing by how popular and highly-rated this book is, that it's just me. I didn't have the awesome, heart-rending experience that others had reading this book. Maybe I'm not into retellings of classics. Or I'm the wrong demographic. To quote Odysseus, “What is admired in one generation is abhorred in another.”
Cute and humorous horror/comedy pitting traditional Halloween monsters against humans who like to call up Lovecraftian horrors for kicks.
This has a ready-for-teleplay kind of feel and is pure entertainment. The characters are uncomplicated and charming, especially Duke and Earl, the two out-of-towners, who drop in on a town plagued with weird supernatural pests.
It's a quick read if you like horror and are in the mood for something fun.
The Boatman's Daughter revolves around an interconnected group of people living near the Arkansas bayou and their secrets, lies, revenge, and so on. It's a bayou soap opera with elements of the supernatural.
Davidson's writing style strikes me as self-consciously stylized. He's trying so hard to create an atmosphere but the metaphors and complicated sentence structure get in the way of the storytelling.
He puts effort into the tone but neglects to impart his characters with engaging personalities.
Miranda, the title character, is “brave and strong”, typical of how young women characters are written these days, without any traits that might make them vulnerable or human. Zero sense of humor. Her allies have uncommon physical traits but no charisma. No depth for to the villains either–just brooding, abusing, raping, and murdering. The writer doesn't take any risks on this front.
As for the horror or supernatural aspects, the demons/psychic phenomenon seemed like an afterthought. If you removed it or made it far more subtle, it would not have affected the story.
I love gothic and creepy stories but I couldn't get involved in this. All the grittiness and underdogs to root for, yet the final effect was lifeless.
I chose to read this because of FOMO. It seems everyone I know has already read this, and here I am six years late to the party.
The first 90% of the book is compelling. There are three narrators, but mostly it's Rachel, the unreliable alcoholic storyteller. This creates many opportunities for red herrings as Rachel can't remember what she's done most of the time. Events are filtered through her crippling depression and anxiety. I was rooting for her to get it together and alternately wondering how bad things would get.
Once we get to the resolution though, (sigh) Hawkins lost me. This was a story about women, told by women with individual sets of mistakes and problems. As soon as we see who the murderer is, that's no longer the case. Hawkins downgrades all the women to victims of a male abuser. Rachel becomes a mere a gas-lit damsel-in-distress.. This is boring and something I've read too many times before.
The Girl on the Train is certainly nothing to take seriously, but the ending took the most predictable way out. It's too bad, because it had such a great set-up.
I was all set to love this. The haunted, lonely motel setting really appealed to me. I also enjoyed the concept of two people working on solving the same mystery, Viv back in the 1980s (my favorite decade), and her niece Carly picking up the trail in recent times. It started out great and then got boring as heck.
This is a trite story about a serial killer with predictable twists. The ghosts are loosely tied to the main story but otherwise they don't add much other than atmosphere. I would have liked a little more haunting in this haunted motel. There wasn't much to enjoy in terms of the one-note characters either. They displayed nothing more than a surface set of personality traits. (Alma: tough, Marnie: cynical, Viv: brave, Carly: curious. Put all four together and you've almost got a real person.)
There was a lot of unnecessary repetition of information: after Viv solves part of the mystery in the '80s, we then see Carly discovering it again, resulting in plot points being restated. There had to be a better way to convey that Carly had caught up with Viv's discoveries.
The author's take on the '80s didn't ring true for me. The writers version of the 80s didn't evoke the period at all. It was also distracting that multiple characters were incredulous about the notion of a female cop. Even in the pop culture of the late '70s (and probably earlier, this is just as far as my first-hand memories go) there were female cops. I know pop culture isn't reality but it frequently reflects it and sets up what we expect to see.
This is my favorite of the Dublin Murder Squad books so far, mostly because of how much I loved Frank. He is one of those guys with that tough but sensitive personality type plus a touch of good humor. I was pulling for him, not just to solve the mystery but to get his shit together too, emotionally speaking.
The mystery was good, not too hard to figure out but satisfying and it connected so well to everything Frank went through. Of course it helped that he had such a personal stake in it.
The heart of the story is Frank returning to his home neighborhood and dealing with his troubled family, something that he had been avoiding for decades. The conflicting character theme that you can never go home but also that you can never really leave your home behind either resonated with me.
This novel examines the effects of sexual and emotional abuse on a teenage girl by her English teacher, including her long-term attachment to her abuser, and feelings of guilt that her own decisions and desires were to blame. I understood the intended point, but unfortunately, it felt like a sort of fictional case-study of abuse and the effects on the victim/abuser, rather than a complex and engaging novel. Everything fits a by-the-numbers scheme.
Vanessa, a supposedly bright high school student and Strane, her teacher, simply fill the victim/abuser roles. They have no life of their own, and their relationship is lifeless, predictable, and flat. In order for me to buy into Vanessa's ambivalence, I'd have to feel the connection and tension between her and Strane. The predatory nature of Strane is transparent, obvious rather than left for the reader to discover. (Having him seduce her with a copy of Lolita is a little too on the nose.)
As individual characters, neither of them are well-developed enough for me to feel any anger, loss etc. Vanessa has little in the way of other interests or relationships. I can't empathize with how her life has been defined by the abuse because the author never shows the potential in her for anything else. We never see any of Strane's supposed charm or charisma. If he was popular and witty, someone who kids like and other teachers respect, there could have been some interesting conflict. Instead, everyone is suspicious of him and it's obvious that they should be.
I was expecting something deeper. The promised exploration of “psychological dynamics” didn't really occur as far as I could tell.
Highfire takes a high fantasy-style ancient dragon, drops him in the Louisiana Bayou, and mixes him up in a crime thriller, involving a corrupt officer of the law and a highly resourceful teenager.
Unexpected friendships, humor, and personality-filled characters make this book a joy. There is a lot of adventure; I find myself actually caring about the action because all the players involved are so layered and colorful. Even the villain has depth, sure it's all evil depth, but it's there. There's a little bit of a message about species extinction and learning not to judge an individual by previous experiences with the rest of their kind. It's well done, and handled via the character arcs, not heavy-handed.
It's a bit like a Christopher Moore book, combining modern fantasy with pop culture references and quick-witted dialogue. A Moore fan might like this and vice-versa.
Not a typical novel because there isn't a plot as such. What we have here is an odd collection of anecdotes about/told by a group of 20 somethings living in the early '90s. Andy, Dag, and Claire have gone through a “mid-twenties” crisis and decided the usual life path of college to career to marriage to house to kids is not for them.
I can relate. As a middle-class kid you always feel like you have to aim for the same life your parents had. If you don't, I suppose you delay “adulthood.” Of course if you delay too long, your life can still seem kind of empty. The characters in this book share the notion that the pursuit of status and material objects that their parents engage in wasn't going to give them a real life. So they withdraw and live underemployed, doing jobs they are too smart for and just getting by. Still, are they happy? Coupland isn't offering you a solution here, just showing you how this generation may have looked at the world.
I love the chapter titles, “ I Am Not a Target Market”, “Shopping is Not Creating,” and “Remember Earth Clearly” are a few favorites. I'm still thinking about my moment of how I want to remember Earth. One story that stood out in my mind was about the three sisters and the astronaut. In a “fairy tale” the sister who went with him would have been rewarded with a fantastic new life for her faith but in this cynical Gen-X tale, it is assumed by the other two sisters, and the reader, that she dies for being a trusting fool.
Memoir-like tale of childhood through young adulthood, told by a young man whose life revolves around his extraordinary best friend. Ideas of fate, prophecy, and religion figure heavily into the story, and it explores the idea of how much a person's beliefs can influence their fate.
The narrative flips around in time a lot. The reader knows what the big events will be before they occur in story order, but you get the details gradually. This playing with the order of events plays along with the themes of fate.
As with all John Irving, there's lots of humor and character development.
This story had me experiencing nostalgia for a time before YouTube was corporate and censoring. I also felt the traumatic emotional memories being an adult who witnessed 9/11/01.
Pattern Recognition had a surprising historical fiction feel for something that's science fiction. That's probably because I'm reading this nearly 20 years too late.
I did learn a new word, “Apophenia: the tendency to mistakenly perceive connections and meaning between unrelated things.”
I also like this:
“Paranoia, he said, was fundamentally egocentric, and every conspiracy theory served in some way to aggrandize the believer.”
Dune is one of those series that I feel I have to respect, if I'm gonna call myself a sci-fi fan, rather than one of those for which I have strong and personal feelings.
This isn't a bad read, there's plenty of plot twists, action, and some interesting characters. My medium to warm rating it may just be me.
There were numerous schemes at play here, and while the stakes were all life and death, I never got a sense of what anyone's endgame or drive actually was. The theme of characters overly influenced by their ancestors could be taken figuratively but is a literal concern for the title characters.
Thinking through the plot, it's all kind of batshit crazy, but not in a way I found fun. Drug trips, possession, big worms, big tigers, revenge, kidnappings, and so on. Sounds fun but since I wasn't feeling the character motivations/goals, it was just a lot of stuff. Could be a lack of careful reading on my part since I was less than fully engaged.
Of the original trilogy, I liked Dune Messiah the best, for subverting expectations after the triumph of the heroes in the original book. There's also a central point made there, about the danger of mixing up your religion and your political leaders.
Children of Dune picked up from there, with the children and others still standing left to pick up the pieces. I enjoy the ideas expressed on politics, religion, and society but I wish they were mixed with a story that entertained me more.
“Governments, if they endure, always tend increasingly toward aristocratic forms. No government in history has been known to evade this pattern. And as the aristocracy develops, government tends more and more to act exclusively in the interests of the ruling class - whether that class be hereditary royalty, oligarchs of financial empires, or entrenched bureaucracy.
- Politics as Repeat Phenomenon: Bene Gesserit Training Manual”
― Frank Herbert, Children of Dune
This is a weird, racy little black comedy with supernatural elements and characters that are repulsive yet entertaining in various ways. It's a road trip story that moves very fast; not much time is wasted on involved backstory or character development. There's a cynical rather than sentimental approach to the premise, which certainly could have incited more empathy given the tragedies involved.
I see similarities between Lullaby and Fight Club. There's the antisocial/sociopathic characters, the social commentary, and the identity-related plot twists. With Fight Club, I was more engaged and involved with the narrator. The rebellion against consumer culture and living for a meaningless career, for instance, gave Fight Club meaning for me. Lullaby spends a lot of time on noise pollution, which is interesting but doesn't resonate with me quite as much.
Entertaining and fast read with many disturbing, chilling and creepy moments. There were some good aspects and bad aspects of this book but it actually got better as it went along.
It was also surprisingly funny with quirky bits of dialogue:
“I am not sure what the appropriate gesture is to make toward the family of the woman who bit off your ear, but if you felt absolutely compelled, I certainly wouldn't take food.”
The title to me implied that a book club would be working together to fight vampires. That's not what happened. Instead, most of the book is about gaslighting Patricia. Patricia is a character to empathize with and root for in her struggle to free her family and town of their evil neighbor. Her fellow book-clubbers unfortunately put their fears of their husbands, fears for their personal security, and fear of public opinion in front of protecting the children of their town. Things went bad for Patricia, but it kept me reading, hoping she was going to be vindicated.
Now the not so good things.
The Messages about the wrongs of Racism, Sexism, and Classism from the book were far from subtle. Hendrix doesn't trust the reader to be smart enough to come to any conclusions on their own. There is evil in putting your own financial and social standing above all else, while allowing disadvantaged people to be exploited and destroyed. Unfortunately, it's not left for the reader to think about these evils in the character's actions. Instead, it is overtly said, words stating the obvious put right into the characters mouths:
“Then again, I moved here because you people are all so stupid,” he said. “You'll take anyone at face value as long as he's white and has money.”
I also thought the stupidity and egotism of the Husbands Who Don't Listen was weak. The worst of them cheat and abuse their wives either physically or emotionally and the best of them are shallow and clueless. Not one book club member is in a good marriage, and to me it feels like a device used to make the men jackasses in order to elevate the women. Hendrix is yet another writer who doesn't trust that a female character can be written as resourceful, brave, and layered without also diminishing the men.
This book was fun and exciting but could have been so much more if Hendrix had faith in the intelligence of his audience.
Parts of this were very good. King excels at writing kids. Luke and his friends and the other kids at the Institute are believable and engaging. They're worthy heroes of this supernatural thriller, and probably the only truly scary thing about the book.
I also enjoyed Tim Jamison and the other residents of Dupray, South Carolina. King sets up the drifter character of Tim very cleverly; you're not sure at first whether or not he's trustworthy. The story of him proving himself, getting his backstory, and finding a new place for himself in Dupray is satisfying. Also, the scene where the citizens of Dupray rush to the rescue of the Sheriff's office, all of them packing heat to defend their town, is one of the best moments of the book.
Where The Institute lost me was with Mrs. Sigsby and her sadistic slacker employees. These characters aren't that menacing or even interesting. We spend a lot of time with them, especially when they're on the hunt for an escapee and we see every step of their process. I have a feeling that if we knew less about them, they would seem more powerful somehow.
The mismatch of the heroes and villains is a problem if you're trying to create any feelings of suspense and excitement about the conflict.
Family saga that follows the Hamiltons and the Trasks and loosely re-imagines the biblical story Cain and Abel.
Steinbeck asks the question: is your nature fated because of blood (genetics) or do you have a choice in what you're going to be?
The wisest characters believe that we do have a choice. Timshel. Thou mayest triumph over sin, meaning that men have a choice.
“I don't very much believe in blood,” said Samuel. “I think when a man finds good or bad in his children he is seeing only what he planted in them after they cleared the womb.” “You can't make a race horse of a pig.” “No,” said Samuel, “but you can make a very fast pig.”
Very long version of the King Arthur tale, made up of four books that were originally published separately and then revised and put into this volume.
The first book, The Sword in the Stone, was the most enjoyable as it had humorous moments and a fun take on Merlin who knows the future because he's traveling backward through time.
Merlin gets my favorite quote from the book:
“The best thing for being sad,” replied Merlyn, beginning to puff and blow, “is to learn something. That is the only thing that never fails. You may grow old and trembling in your anatomies, you may lie awake at night listening to the disorder of your veins, you may miss your only love, you may see the world about you devastated by evil lunatics, or know your honour trampled in the sewers of baser minds. There is only one thing for it then—to learn. Learn why the world wags and what wags it. That is the only thing which the mind can never exhaust, never alienate, never be tortured by, never fear or distrust, and never dream of regretting. “
White makes you aware throughout the book that he's telling a story and frequently refers to Le Morte d'Arthur by Sir Thomas Malory, making the reader aware of how the story was told there and the differences. There are many anachronisms in The Once and Future King.
The primary problem Arthur tackles throughout the book is the idea that Might is Right, or more importantly, how Arthur can get his nights to use their might–fighting skills and bravery–to help others and do good things rather than impose their will on people.
The Ill Made Knight was my least favorite. This part was focused on Lancelot, who is portrayed as a wet blanket. He's so concerned with being virtuous and good that he causes his own problems. (Virtuous in his eyes centering on his virginity.) Makes a good story but somehow it's not for me. This is also the part of the King Arthur story I'm most familiar with, the Camelot musical and love triangle and all of that.
I do appreciate how none of the heroes are portrayed as perfect, they all have their complexities and issues. As far as the villains, well, Mordred is interesting but his mother, Morgause, never gets any depth or sympathy. I never knew that Morgause was different from Morgan le Fay; this is the first time I've ever seen it told that way.
As someone who was never a big King Arthur fan, I can't say if this is a must-read classic for Fantasy fans, or a dusty version of a story that could use a fresh take?
This series of novellas is considered a postmodern take on the detective novel and uses conventions of the genre as their base. In all three stories, a solitary male character finds himself involved in a mystery that was artificially constructed to one degree or another by an antagonist that we know little about.
Each of these protagonists goes on a downward spiral and loses sight of himself, the purpose in his own life, and his relationships or goals. Quinn, the main character from “City of Glass” is the most sympathetic, maybe because before the start of his adventure he has already suffered tragedy. By the time the reader can see that his mystery has come to a deadend, he doesn't let go.
“Quinn no longer had any interest in himself. He wrote about the stars, the earth, his hopes for mankind. He felt that his words had been severed from him, that now they were part of the world at large, as real and specific as a stone, or a lake, or a flower.”
“It struck me that writing under another name might be something I would enjoy–to invent a secret identity for myself–and I wondered why I found this idea so attractive.”
“As the days go on, Blue realizes there is no end to the stories he can tell. For Black is no more than a kind of blankness, a hole in the texture of things, and one story can fill this hole as well as any other”
Reread an old book to see if it's as good as I remember. It's still an engaging story: The plot, character, pacing, and tension are all there. Back when I first read this, Johnny's fragility compelled my interest and his hope for happiness or normal life again after the accident gave him his unwanted ability. Will he find another woman after Sarah? Where will his new ability take him, etc.?
I was struck by the religious themes this time around. His mother, driven by her faith, is painted as a nutcase. Even her husband becomes enraged by her behavior, justifiably when she risks their financial life by giving money away to various religious causes/groups, hoping this would save Johnny. Religious=crazy, but is Johnny a kind of messiah? He “dies” and resurrects with a gift that saves several people, future victims of a serial killer, high school students who would have burnt up in a fire, and so on. His “gift” means can't lead a normal life. He's feared and hated by some, yet other “believers” petition him for guidance.
Johnny's final gift to humanity is to take down the false or perceived political messiah figure of Greg Stilson. The common man worships and sees him as the hope of those who aren't born into privilege. Stilson's corruption goes unnoticed, except by a few who are quickly eliminated in a way that never catches up to him. The idea of Stilson, a politician who “understands and cares” about people, is the dream. (Note how he is not Dem or Rep.) Yet, Johnny sees a future where Stilson's power is boundless and causes great destruction and suffering. He appears to be what the country needs, but he's false and Johnny's final act reveals Stilson's cold, manipulative soul. A true savior of the common man is a myth.
Devotion to a messiah=crazy. The hated and feared Johnny makes the sacrifice. The rest of us are left safe but without hope. But wait. The final bit shows that Sarah's husband has a political possible future. Will he be one of the good ones or just another power-mad charlatan?
This is still a complex, readable story. My above interpretation is one of many that are possible. Other than some quaint, outdated sexual/gender politics around Sarah, this is a timeless classic novel of the supernatural.
A journalist spends twenty years researching the Manson family murders and other crimes surrounding those, throwing the official trial story and the book Helter Skelter into doubt.
I finished the book feeling bad for O'Neill who, while succeeding in showing that Bugliosi was probably full of it, never finds any confirmed answers to his questions.
Pleasant and fun to read with a likeable narrator (and her charismatic dog Bongo) and a touch of humor, but it seemed a little lightweight. The Twisted Ones is a spooky story that's very carefully bland.
Part of the horror of these types of stories should be carried within the main character. Their own mistakes, their own internal conflicts, and angst should be just as much a part of the darkness explored as is the “monster.” Other than learning about the existence of other-worldly stuff, the narrator is no different at the beginning of the story than she is at the end.
Maybe as a short story the animated effigies and creepy dolls would have felt like enough to make it chilling. As a full length novel, it was dragged out and all the characters just a little too nice or poorly-defined (except for Grandma of course, who we're told second hand was quite nasty.) No risks taken here.