Bronwyn Knox

I read this for a book club, so I'm admitting right off that this is not the sort of thing I would choose for myself. The review can be taken in that light.

I enjoyed the historical fiction aspects of the story. Brooks tells the story of Jarrett's evolution as a trainer, and how he made Darley/Lexington into a champion, while maintaining a trusting and affectionate relationship with the horse. He accomplishes all this while dealing with the unjust limitations of being enslaved. I wish Brooks had trusted that this was enough to make her book satisfying.

The art collecting portions of the story didn't go anywhere and seemed unnecessary. But this wasn't the problem.

Why I took my rating from good to just acceptable is because of the inclusion of the modern-day storyline. In 2019, the characters Jess and Theo had a loose connection to the historical portions of the story. Brooks chose use them as a device to point out the continued racial tensions in the United States today.

Using characters as a demonstration of social and political statements is not my favorite technique. There are subtle ways to inspire readers towards meaningful thoughts on the topic. In fact, she does the intelligence of Jess and Theo a huge disservice in order to make her point. This is all done to manipulate the readers into something or other—anger, fear, or guilt presumably. But it's transparent so therefore, not effective.

So, she doesn't trust her story, nor does she trust the intelligence of the reader.

Just as much fun as The Big Over Easy and requires/rewards just as much attentiveness with the multiple converging plot threads and never-ceasing jokes. I'd love to know what it's like to be in Fforde's head for a few moments.

Racism and immigration laws are the commentary targets for this one, rather than the usual capitalism/bureaucracy, bringing it a little closer to The Constant Rabbit.

My favorite chapters in the book involve the alien Ash, who gets “humanized” as we learn more about his life, family, hopes and dreams and so on.

You've gotta love a main character who tells you right out of the gate that she's not a good person. Libby goes on to prove it too: selfish, lazy, manipulative etc. I dig Flynn's fearlessness when it comes to her protagonists. She's not looking for you to worship or even necessarily identify with the character. But Libby is entertaining.

This was a fun-to-read suspenseful thriller. A real page-turner and I was surprised and engaged throughout. It's another book, like Sharp Objectswhere everything is so sleazy, but I guess that is half the fun.

I don't think you have to be into video games to enjoy this book. It might help make it a richer experience but anyone who engages in a creative endeavor that crosses over into pop culture would most likely find the characters in the story relatable.

I appreciated the way Zevin wrote about the struggle of being an artist and art vs. commerce or artistic goals vs. popularity. The conflicts and misunderstandings between game designers Sam and Sadie and their long-suffering partner, Marx kept me interested throughout.

If I break it down, there is not a lot of plot in this novel, it's mostly character and relationship stuff combined with Zevin using the character's thoughts and dialogue to express her philosophy of life/art/play and many social and political opinions.

Her thoughts are lovely and I found myself enlightened or agreeing with them most of the time. I'm sure she'd be really fun to talk to. It's just not my favorite writing technique when the author stuffs the character's mouths with her own messages, rather than letting behavior and story action speak for itself.

This book drags at times, especially given how little happens (Sam's backstory contains more drama than the actual story) and some of it could have been tightened or removed for increased impact.

There was no payoff for the time spent on this book intellectually, spiritually, or viscerally. I almost never say this, but I appreciated the film more because it managed to convey the same ideas without the tedium.

I understand that the writing style (run-on sentences, no separation of dialogue, no punctuation) may have been meant to give the writer the same feeling of stumbling around blindly but since it didn't truly achieve this, by the time I reached the last hundred pages I was weary of it.

I will avoid rating this for now, as I may try to read this again in a few months or a year or so. When we're not in a real-life quarantine maybe it won't feel so odious.

This was an interesting idea, a tribute to Frankenstein combined with a story about kids trying to solve a mystery at a mental institution where their beloved grandmother works as a doctor. It was unfortunately combined with a less compelling story about two of the kids as adults, one as a podcaster/monster hunter and the other as a “monster.”

I did like the bit with the kids at first; I love stories where young people have to be self-reliant and get themselves into and out of trouble. That part did feel like a YA novel though, and that's not how this is marketed.

A big problem is that most of the story is built on twists—entirely predictable twists—and melodrama. Dear lord, the melodrama. Showing people having temper tantrums and crying fits leaves the reader out of the emotional moment; it doesn't pull them into it.

There are way too many things packed into the book and none of them are done well. There's a missing persons mystery, evils of eugenics, feminist empowerment, romantic attraction (out of nowhere I might add), memory and identity issues, the entire who's-your-Monster theme, and so on. All of this in a loosely strung, gimmicky plot. I would have liked a little more storytelling, a little less concept.

While certainly not unreadable, Fellowship Point had a few different story threads going and my final impression is one of a disjointed, vague, and overly-long novel.

Some of the plots don't have much of a conclusion. The one thread that is fully developed, the tragic tale of how Agnes developed her When Nan series, resolved with an unbelievable coincidence that was more annoying than satisfying.

There are also some chapters that are pointless, such as the one showing the characters reacting to 9/11. It really had nothing to do with plot or character, just a vague nod to the time in which it's set.

It could have used some sharpening up and a better editor.

I'd call this a diverting read that's easily consumable but lightweight. The drama and tension don't ratchet up that much, and the characters escape dangers without consequence. Throughout the novel there is an oversimplified good vs. evil morality. It's set up as episodic, like a serialized story or ready-for-television treatment. Each little mini-section features Atticus, a young army vet of the Korean war and/or members of his extended family and friends. Various characters connected to Atticus are protagonists of an episode, each of which has its own mini-arc. I wouldn't call them short stories because they are interdependent and part of the full novel. Ruff offers the value of having protagonists who are minorities, characters who historically were frequently marginalized, demonized, stereotyped, ignored or worse in some of the horror/science fiction tales he's referencing. Unfortunately, Atticus and company aren't well-developed characters. My cynical assumption being that he can't write them with human failings or he'd get slammed for showing Black characters in what could be perceived as a negative light. Instead, we end up with bland, empty characters, filling their role in the plot. The one that comes off best is Atticus's love interest, Letitia. She is a brave and quick-witted woman, but lacks any flaws that make a memorable character. Trying not to offend is a weak choice. The antagonists are even less interesting. The scenes of white racists harassing Atticus and his family happen so often, they lose impact. With the exception of Caleb Braithewhite, who is the big bad guy but oddly not an overt racist, most of the white characters are empty shells, demonstrating racism rather than portraying flawed and ignorant racist individuals. They're also easily defeated by the protagonists, or more often by some vengeful supernatural intervention. A story where Atticus or Letitia or any of the others had deliberately called up supernatural beings to punish truly complex, evil racist characters could have been an interesting revenge fantasy. Or maybe could have led to something where the protagonists had to cooperate with white characters to fight a mutual enemy, and consequences and character growth could have stemmed from that. There isn't much character growth at all because problems vanish with little difficulty. In the chapter called “Dreams of the Which House,” Letitia buys the Winthrop house, a building haunted by the former owner. Winthrop is hostile at first but quickly becomes her friend when she holds her ground. I like the idea, but the alliance happens so easily that it isn't satisfying. The end of the first episode, where Samuel Braithewhite and the Order of the Ancient Dawn call up the “light of creation,” is reminiscent of the “well of souls” scene from Raiders of the Lost Ark, with members of the Order in the role of the Nazi cultists. That was a decently-executed allusion to a famous bit of pop culture that made a comment without calling it out in so many words. I would have liked a few more scenes like this.The mention of Atticus as a science fiction reader of Lovecraft, Bradbury, Heinlein, etc. feels a little self-conscious to me. A book like this that's using horror as social commentary should be better than the source material it's commenting on; but it isn't. There are no genuine chilling moments and no fresh ideas. A better read for commentary on Lovecraft is [b:The Ballad of Black Tom 26883558 The Ballad of Black Tom Victor LaValle https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1447086249l/26883558.SY75.jpg 46932536] by Victor LaValle, which had a focused, tight story with complex morality.

This novel is one of those I'd heard of over the years, and was aware of the various adaptations and so on but never got around to exploring it. It felt like one of those you should look into if you are interested in British literature, so I decided to tackle it. The story takes place between the two world wars and shows the degeneration of an aristocratic family, who are slowly losing their money, prestige, and so on.

Captain Charles Ryder, during WWII, gets stationed near the Marchmain house, family estate of his old friend Sebastian Flyte. The book is his memories of his time with Sebastian and the rest of his family, Lord and Lady Marchmain, and their children.

Charles meets Sebastian Flyte in college, where they get very close. However, when Sebastian first introduces Charles to his family home, he has some issues with them, avoiding introducing Charles, at least at first. The family is Catholic; Lady Marchmain in particular, insists her children to be as tied to their faith as she is. Charles himself is ordinary, middle class, with enough money for college and no strong religious ties or feelings.

Charles and Sebastian, I assume, are romantic or sexually involved, though it is never clearly said. Sebastian develops a drinking problem, and Charles is stuck between him and his family as they expect him to help get Sebastian straightened out. Charles is popular with the family, yet Lady Marchmain is disappointed that Charles is an atheist and prefers Sebastian to have more Catholic friends.

It is not expressly said, but possibly the drinking is because Sebastian can't reconcile being Catholic with homosexuality. Also, Lady M knows they are more than friendly and doesn't want Sebastian involved long-term in a relationship with another man. Interestingly, no one makes a big deal of the young men's relationships in college; the characters take these entanglements for granted and as temporary before assuming they will graduate to traditional marriage and children.

The opening half of Brideshead Revisited concerns Charles and Sebastian and moves slowly, including many scenes of drinking and traveling with rich people. I wasn't that captivated with the book at this point.

In the second half, Charles grows into a talented artist and marries a woman who helps with his career. The drama in this part of the book revolves around his relationship with Charles' sister Julia and her struggle between wanting to do as she wants with her personal life (in her case, marrying men who have not had their previous marriages annulled; a no-no in the Catholic church) and following the rules of the Catholic church, which somehow becomes more important to her after her parents die, first one and then the other.

One theme is how much the characters allow religion to rule their happiness, especially in the case of Sebastian and Julia. They struggle to balance what they want and need with what the church says they are allowed to have/do.

Narrator Charles is deeply involved with the family but not religious, so he maintains an obejectiviy on many of their issues. Although I'd describe the book as being about faith, it's not clear how strong Sebastian and Julia's feelings are about Catholicism as they never discuss it with Charles nor do they express their spiritual side or what it is they get out of observing the religion, there is only their behavior to go by and notice what it is taking out of them. Is their belief unquestioned and just innate within them despite their education and intelligence?

One element that is hard to reconcile is that infidelity is acceptable to the Marchmains over divorce. I was raised Catholic and am aware that cheating was never okay. Yet somehow, with the Marchmains, it is preferable to divorce/remarriage. In addition to Julia's well-known affair with Charles, Lord Marchmain kept a mistress, and his wife accepted this.

The second half moved quicker and was easier to get invested in, maybe because the story clarifies the stakes of the relationships.

The book ends on a down note and the feeling that Charles suffered just as much or more than the family he was involved with, despite not having the same internal conflicts with faith versus personal fulfillment.

It's a bit weird looking back on a decade that you lived through and one that doesn't feel that long ago. Klosterman has organized this book as a series of funny, intelligent and entertaining essays focused on different events, pop culture, and phenomena of the time. One of the press reviews called it “irreverent” and I agree.

Reading the book, I realize how much has changed. The internet was fun but not vital, you had to be at home to get a phone call, and we shared a lot more pop culture experiences back then, for good or for ill, such as Seinfeld, Titanic, Nirvana etc. With social media, we might assume we are connected but everything is broken up into little bits of specialized interest. You also had a higher degree of individuality.

“No stories were viral. No celebrity was trending. The world was still big. The country was still vast. You could just be a little person, with your own little life and your own little thoughts. You didn't have to have an opinion, and nobody cared if you did or did not. You could be alone on purpose, even in a crowd.”

I enjoyed being reminded of things I hadn't thought of in years. Clarence Thomas, Ross Perot and the 1992 presidential campaign, and the entire millennium changeover scare.

Born the same year as I was, Klosterman had a chapter (Fighting the Battle of Who Could Care Less) devoted to our generation, generation X, who were the young people during the 90s. We would have been the ones influencing and experiencing the 90s the most at the time but it's hard to notice something when you are in the midst of it.

If there is any weakness in the book it's that I wish he'd been able to go into more of the literature/fiction writing of the time. He mentions a couple of books, neither of which I think were a big deal.

This was really well done! I think I've just found a new author to follow and will look for his earlier work.

Sleepwalk reminded me of a Philip K. Dick novel, Valis maybe, where the science fiction element is secondary to the psychological study of the narrator.

Will Bear lives in a dystopia where the things that seem bad/going wrong in our world are enhanced enough to be at a crisis point. Will has managed to built an existence for himself where he remains anonymous and disconnected until he gets an impossible phone call that gradually drives him to the point of needing other people.

Despite all the backstory and internal stuff going on there is a healthy dose of action and a perfect pace.

Most striking to me is that by the end, though the world seems to be heading to apocalypse, Will seems to be in a much better place than he started.

Supernatural action thriller with a noir-inspired main character who's been to hell and back and now wants revenge on those who sent him, as he puts it, Downtown. To add injury to insult, they also killed his woman.

The mythology and types of monsters suggest the Preacher graphic novels and Supernatural television show influence. As for Stark himself, I can imagine Jensen Ackles of Supernatural saying all of Stark's dialogue with all the tough-guy talk, the sarcasm, and so on. I also see a lot of the Preacher's Saint of Killers in Stark's characterization.

It's a cool genre and in some ways Sandman Slim is a lot of fun. An easy read that moves along at a fast pace; quite a page turner. It's just exciting enough to keep me wanting to know what's around the corner for Stark.

The execution doesn't thrill me quite as much as the concept. It's teleplay-ready, based on action sequences and expository dialogue (with occasional moments of smarty ass-ery from Stark and others). One plot point smashes into the next, often without rhyme or reason, just because the author needs it that way.

Oh, I know it's just for fun and not meant to be serious or life-changing, but I've seen writers balance thrills and spills with depth and development. (Felix Castor series excels at this.) I'm not getting much to think about with Sandman Slim.

All the supporting characters are NPC's that revolve around Stark. They only exist to 1) Hurt Stark, 2) Help Stark, or 3) Give Stark information while hurting or helping him (or sometimes flirting or exchanging insults with him).

The is a bit similar to how Harry Dresden began, including the noir style and immaturity of the character. I didn't love the Dresden Files at first either and but ended up getting attached and finding several gems in that series. This was an easy read so I may this series another try and see if the writing improved as it went along.

I found this to be fun and quick-paced. It drew inspiration from monster movies and the conflict was one that is often used: “billionaires are evil.”

Scalzi used dialogue to tell the story 90% of the time. This was efficient and started out entertaining until I realized that every character had a similar personality and and sense of humor. The cast of characters was only superficially diverse since they otherwise spoke the same “language” of smart-ass-ery and there was no conflict among the group of colleagues.

At first, the humor seems fresh and then it quickly gets old. Since the premise isn't that original either, I don't have strong feelings about the book either way. Mediocre entertainment.

Well written and intense. I wish it had some of the humor of Cranor's well-known project, Welcome to Night Vale.

Dystopian fiction that displays influences from 1984, Brave New World, maybe even A Handmaid's Tale—definitely Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.

Because the book deals with the ability to alter memories, there is a lot of ambiguity, especially in the last few chapters.

Is the editor/author of the footnotes and prologue/epilogue Rosemary, master manipulator?

Of all the books in the Hitchhiker's series, this one seems the darkest. There is a weird cynicism presented throughout which says, yes terrible things are happening in the universe and only the main characters seem to care. In this particular case, it's the wild and crazy Ford Prefect.

I might have forgotten about this book deliberately and pretended the series ended with Life, the Universe, and Everything if only because that would wrap up things for Arthur nicely, taking him from passive tourist to active participant in saving the galaxy.

Still, I like this book. Adams can't really write a bad one; all the humor and bizarre story stuff is there. The bits with Arthur and his daughter are interesting, though I have a lot of questions about the character motivation on Trillian's part that never get resolved. Selfishly having a daughter with Arthur's DNA and without his permission, then sticking the responsibility on him seems out of character, but then we never learned much about her anyway. We get more here, with the story of her life in an alternate reality where she does not go off with Zaphod.

If you're a die hard fan, it's an entertaining book to read. If you're casually interested in the old Hitchhiker's phenomenon, this one's skippable.

Stephen King really, really wants you to like Billy Summers. He's a highly skilled hitman but he only shoots “bad guys.” He has a tragic backstory. He's a lot smarter than he appears to other people and has secret literary aspirations. He saves damsels in distress.

This desperation for us to love this character adds up to a story that instead of being intense is rather bland and mild. It's not boring; I was certainly compelled enough to at least find out what the setup was. It just doesn't stand out much from any crime thriller, other than the fact that King wrote it. All of the time spent on the set up of Billy's job, plus establishing him as someone with a very different nature than his demeanor, didn't pay off in an interesting way.

The emotional center of the book is on his bond with Alice, which if the reader can buy into this, would make the story more meaningful. I was never convinced they would have any reason to trust each other and there wasn't any tension between them.

It's a readable book, just not one that's going to be memorable. All the political references are going to make it rather dated anyway, should anyone still care to read this in forty years or so. It's not going to be like The Dead Zone, which I would still read right now.

Dark, violent, and disturbing story, told in a first-person point of view, like a diary.

This reminded me a lot of We Have Always Lived in the Castle. Like in that book, the family has mostly died off due to tragedy and are able to maintain an existence away from most people thanks to property owned (in this case a small island) and an independent income. Both stories have a psychopathic, murderous teenager at their center and in both books the main characters are ostracized from the rest of the town due to the actions of a family member. Heck, there's even a fire in the climax of both books.

There's a twist in Wasp Factory as well and it still has me thinking. I can't quite figure out the point of it, but I will admit I didn't see it coming. Terrible things happen to Frank, and he does terrible things. I'm not convinced that the tragic "maiming" that happened to Frank justifies him being the monster he is. Once we find out the truth, it doesn't really matter that it was child abuse instead of a random accident. Unclear if there is a statement being made here about gender or the assumption of gender. That's okay. I don't like messages and morals in my stories.

I do wonder why it is that Franks's brother Eric tortures dogs when Frank is the one with reason to hate them. Frank certainly tortures other creatures but objects to Eric's chosen victims.

So yes, there are a lot of things unanswered here. I'm not looking for a book to answer all questions posed. I'm fine with leaving things ambiguous and open to interpretation. Definitely an interesting book to read if you like psychological horror stuff.

Chick-lit but with a Tim Burton atmosphere.

There is a touching, sweet friendship between the two women. I also enjoyed the very Muppet-y spider.

This is a fast read, nothing very complex or anything that you have to think about too hard.

It's not a horror novel, as people have said. I'm looking for spooky books t0 read this October and am striking out all over the place.

I will take the good reads genre nominees with a big grain of salt in the future.

Cute book though.

Cute, fast, and fun urban fantasy. It's low in deep thought but high in entertainment. The protagonist/narrator never faced enough challenges/obstacles for my taste. He's very slick, of the Moist Von Lipwig ([b:Going Postal 64222 Going Postal (Discworld, #33; Moist von Lipwig, #1) Terry Pratchett https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1388236899l/64222.SY75.jpg 1636617]) family of characters, but he seems to know everything. You have to push that type to the brink of disaster to make a satisfying read. I did like the supporting characters. They were sufficiently weird and had interesting backstories.

The writing style is engaging and witty. I was engrossed from the start.

Jacob Finch Bonner is not the greatest guy but easy to understand. He's a struggling writer who has had some modest success but can't get publishers interested in his subsequent work. He's working as a creative writing teacher to get by. He teaches students of varying levels of talent and ambitions but at this point he's pessimistic about the process and it affects his attitude as an instructor.

Then he meets the student who tells him “the plot.” At first it's not life changing for him; he just keeps a casual eye out to see if the arrogant kid will ever get around to publishing the book based on this brilliant idea. It gets complicated when the student dies without publishing and Bonner decides to take the plot and run with it.

We get glimpses of the book Bonner wrote based on this so-called, can't-miss plot. There could have been some potential in the idea that we never knew what the plot actually was. While what we see of Bonner's book is not bad, it can't live up to the hype created by Parker's brag and the runaway success of Bonner's book.

(I was half expecting the writer to employ a device like Monty Python's “Funniest Joke in the World” sketch, which features a joke so funny it kills anyone who hears it. Naturally the audience never finds out what that joke actually is. I'm making this analogy because there is no way the joke could live up to the myth.)

Bonner goes from enjoying life as a successful writer to frantically searching for the source of a series of anonymous threats to expose him. Once this part of the story gets under way, it slowly devolves into an average thriller. It is an important plot point that the book Bonner wrote reflects the discoveries in the investigation Bonner embarks upon when he starts getting harassed.
The final twist is predictable, made more disappointing by the fact that the premise of the entire book is about the idea of an “original plot.” Or maybe that's the point, that there's no way to be surprising and original with just a plot as your weapon. Either way, I wasn't really blown away by the revelation. Also, we get the fallacy of the talking killer.

Maybe this book was a lot funnier than I thought and the final joke on the reader was just too subtle for me. My view is the ending falls into the cheesy category.

I'm a bit ambivalent after finishing. A good one for book clubs though, as it can lead to discussion about plots, intellectual property, writers, and so on. I did enjoy the writing style and would read something else by Korelitz.

Aleisha, a teenage librarian with an attitude and recent widower Mukesh bond over reading books off a reading list of unknown origin. Both are dealing with family issues. They meet when Mukesh decides he wants to read fiction to feel closer to his wife, so he goes to the local library and asks Aleisha for recs.

She is uninterested and unwilling at first but then she finds the reading list at a propitious moment, starts reading the first book (To Kill a Mockingbird) and passes it on to Mukesh. They form a two-person book club and read each book as Aleisha goes down the list and then recommends it to Mukesh. The rest of the story is seeing them deal with their individual family issues.

Mukesh is treated like a child by his three daughters who think he can't handle life without his wife. Aleisha is a child (teenager) but her and her twenty-something year-old brother Aidan are not allowed to be young because their mother is in the middle of a mental health crisis. Since their father is off with a new family, it falls to Aleisha and her brother to look after Mom.

The connection with Mukesh in Aleisha should be found with neither of them being allowed to act as their true age because of family dynamics/recent tragedy and the isolation this has created. The books are a form of escape as well as a way toward broadening their view points. Adams doesn't go deeply into any of this.

It is handled in a shallow, obvious way. Much of the dialogue reads like commercials for the books and told in such a way that a child could grasp it. “I learned so much from Atticus.” “This is just like when Jo was grieving for Beth.” It's stilted and not believable as two real people talking.

It is a very easy read, no challenging ideas and little plot. The sudden dark turn it takes is out of place in such a soft, mushy book. Adams didn't handle it or lead up to it very well. We didn't explore Aidan or his troubles enough to have his suicide mean much to me so it just seems melodramatic and just a device to give the book some plot or big event.

Adams could have taken another few passes at this book to add more depth and connection. Seems like a first draft rushed to publish.

Unique concept for a Stephen King book. It's a short novella with pen and ink illustrations. I particularly liked the drawing of the cemetery.

The chapter structure is various vignettes about residents of a small town who are killed one-by one by a werewolf.

The hero of the town and story is Marty, a little boy in a wheelchair. The characterization that happens in this short book revolves around him and his family. As for his parents, his father tries to cheerfully gloss over his handicap while his Mom seems bitter. Of course all parents are hoping for happy, healthy, normal kids.

There are scenes of Marty missing out on things other kids do like swim, etc. He doesn't explicitly mention how he feels but it's there to see. His eccentric and young uncle Al is the only one who relates to him or treats him like a whole person.

Overall, this is an entertaining, fast read. It's probably geared towards kids who are old enough not to be scared by the violence of the werewolf killings.

The premise of this story, that mapmakers could create these “phantom settlements,” had fascinating implications for humanity and our relationship to the nature of reality. This becomes more of a plot device than a story in The Cartographers.

Shepherd decided to take the focus another way and make the story about interpersonal conflicts, romantic, family, friendships etc. That might have been entertaining if the characters had been better defined. As it was, each character had the same voice when telling their part of the narration and none of them stood out as especially interesting or likable. Or even fun enough to hate. Characteristics were told rather than shown. (For instance, the college-age version of Daniel Young is described as fun and energetic; when did we ever see those traits?)

Additionally, I would have liked more focus on the Haberson map and how the antagonist planned to use it for his plot. It wasn't clear and was simply brushed aside once some of the family drama was resolved.

A book with potential that feels underdeveloped.

All you need is cash.

The original Island of Doctor Moreau (Wells, 1896) book that Moreno-Garcia is borrowing characters and concept from had a title character that was playing God, torturing sentient creatures, and traumatizing the entire cast of characters in the book.

Here, Doctor Moreau is doing the same thing but rather than testing the bounds of science and technology, he just needs money. The central plan is to sell Moreau's creations to the evil capitalist pig Lizaldes so they can use them for slave labor.

When that isn't efficient enough, Moreau decides to sell his hot daughter's hand in marriage to the Lizaldes, just to ensure his financial future.

This cheapens the existential horror potential of the novel. The creatures are reduced to a commodity instead of allowing us to be frightened for, or of them. The author wants them to represent the downtrodden but she doesn't go very deep. Moreno-Garcia did a better job of bringing out the terror of genetic weirdness and the patriarchal oppression angle in Mexican Gothic.

There's no need to take this seriously, however. This is just a shallow and fast-moving book that is mostly a love triangle with some feminist messaging.

Carlota, the title character, goes from obedient daughter and property to liberated superhero in one absurd and melodramatic moment. None of the characters or relationships are developed enough for me to invest in most of the storyline.

My favorite part of the book was the last few chapters, in which the conflict and action heat up and becomes a bit more of a page-turner.

There is not a lot of science fiction in this one.

Filth was a tough read, not because it was long or difficult in wording, but because it's a story of a character, Scottish police officer Bruce Robertson, doing horrible things to himself and others for about 300+ pages. Bruce drinks excessively, does drugs from the evidence room, abuses his authority as a cop to every extreme, has sex with anyone who will have him (including his sister-in-law and wife of his friend), manipulates and antagonizes co-workers, and is generally racist, sexist, chauvinist, and so on. It's not for the faint of heart. Oh, and in the midst of all this, he's supposed to be solving a high profile murder that has racial overtones, though he spends very little time actually doing this.

Yet somehow, while he's not sympathetic, he's certainly compelling. He's hiding his prolonged mental breakdown because he can't be less than tough in front of anyone for a single moment. As the story continues, it gets weirder, more surreal, even funny and touching at times. The more we learn about Robertson's past, the more interesting it gets and Welsh doles out the information at just the right pace.

Welsh gives Robertson a traumatic backstory, right from his conception in fact. His present life is no better; his wife has left him, taking their child. I never got the idea I was supposed to “excuse” his actions based on his troubled past and present however. There's also a suggestion that some of his troubles could be from a genetic mental illness, but this isn't overplayed as commentary. (His reasons for spending very little time searching for murder suspects become clear the more we learn about his past.)

The complexity of Robertson comes from the moments when his cynicism is lifted; he seems to care deeply for other people, tries to save a man who's having a heart attack, and helps a crippled woman. He wants to be a good policeman, and believes in it, despite his conflicting actions. He's also struggling to deal with the changes in what it means to be a policeman, as the department puts pressure on the cops to be more sensitive to diversity, to be aware of the sexism, racism, classism and how it affects their jobs. This is beyond Robertson's abilities to deal with or even consider. His past certainly plays into this. Despite being supposedly “on top'' as a straight white male and authority figure no less, nothing in his life's story indicates that he was ever treated with kindness, compassion or fairness because of it. His mantra of “same rules apply” goes for everyone, including himself.