Lisbeth Ivies
I wasn't planning on starting another book after going on a bit of a binge, but something about the excerpt provided with The Space She Made For Me was too captivating. What I thought had been a cliffhanger was the entirety of the first story in this anthology, though. It's also a very good indicator of what you can expect from the rest of the collection. Bite-sized stories with compelling characters that make you feel, even if they aren't exactly “happy feels” much of the time.
Every piece of the collection is beautiful in its own way, exploring both hopeful and hopeless situations. I gave the rating for this review based on the overall work, but the parts making it up each deserved it as well. I also appreciated that each one started with possible triggers and sometimes a prompt that inspired the story. Unlike many anthologies, there's also a connection built across a few of the stories, though they all can still function as a standalone.
Missed connections, what ifs, and life just being the random chaos it can be appear heavily among many of these stories. I thoroughly enjoyed each one, but I want to stress again for potential readers that happy endings are less of a feature. In addition, there is one story that kind of implies it's better not to be truthful at therapy. Overall though, I was struck by how fast I got sucked into these tales with so few words needed.
I have seen enough reviews recently that make me feel this should be pointed out. If the subtitle isn't noticeable enough, this is a sapphic collection. That means each of these short, evocative stories feature the relationship between two women as the romantic focus. While I know that isn't for everyone, the situations the characters find themselves in, and the emotional responses they have to those situations, are largely universal. Anyone looking for a quick read, or collection of quick reads, should enjoy The Space She Made For Me. Short stories don't always mean you can't develop connections with characters.
Every collection of short stories is different, but one thing always stays similar. Some of the tales making up the anthology will resonate with you, and some will not. Happily, the majority of Tales From the Liminal did the first. The short stories are anchored in human emotion but often feature elements from science or speculative fiction. From Bigfoot enjoying himself on the beach to a sprout inching up toward the sky, each of the fifteen tales making up the collection has something to offer.
Unlike many short story collections I have read over the years, the tales woven here have a similar feel or theme to them without explicitly stating so. Quite a few are on the darker side, but each was thought-provoking in its own way. Overall, the writing style and voice largely felt cohesive too. You only get to spend a few pages with each character and the world they live in. Pulling from the title, these characters are in transition and dynamic by definition. Somehow, many of them still stick with me even after so short a time.
While I enjoyed the majority of the collection, I craved more from a few of the stories in Tales From the Liminal, and not just because I would have liked to read more. There was more than one of the short stories where I could have read a full-length novel based on what was started in the collection. I would have liked a little more buildup with the world the tale occupied, or had more information to attach to specific names. A few of the stories felt less polished than others, more in the context of editing than with content. Some have quite a few noticeable errors where others were flawless.
I don't want to list my favorites because I can't really describe why without possibly spoiling the stories, but I will say that Tales From the Liminal is one of the better short story collections I've read. Each of the fifteen tales puts us in a pair of uniquely different “shoes,” even if some might not have feet. I highly recommend the collection to readers who enjoy speculative or science fiction.
I have not had the privilege of reading other works by this author, including the short story that Sleeping Worlds Have No Memory was based on. After the adventure this novel sent me on, marrying some of the best elements of both science fiction and fantasy, I doubt it will be the last work I choose to read from Yaroslav Barsukov. Beautifully penned prose supports a fascinating and layered plot that kept me hooked to the end.
On the surface, much of the novel's broader tension boils down to a Cold War-esque conflict between two neighboring countries. Each side rushes to build giant towers that serve as both monuments of strength and strategic battlements for a possible invasion. An element not often seen in fantasy literature elevates the plot above what at first seems a simple culture clash that could lead to war: an alien race and the technology they've brought with them. How that technology is treated within the story best exemplifies how artful the author was in his weaving of it. The mechanical “tulips” are pretty but dangerous, simultaneously preserving the dream project of a desperate engineer, perpetuating a fear for the race who brought them, enabling a power hungry prince, and needling the protagonist as a constant reminder of a terrible personal tragedy.
The plot isn't the only thing that packs a punch. Strong motivations and emotional entanglements back most of the main characters and keep the building first sections of the novel from feeling slow. The aching yearning to make up for past mistakes or thirst to prove oneself are universal, acting as grounds for the fantasy and otherworldly elements of the story.
Most of the central cast being so wonderfully layered makes the few that aren't stand out more. Internal conflicts within the point of view characters and the external conflicts at the macro level overshadow the smaller conflicts between characters. The concrete antagonists can often feel like caricatures, more so when sharing scenes with those characters who were better fleshed out.
I recommend Sleeping Worlds Have No Memory to readers who enjoy science fiction or fantasy that makes them think. The novel will make you work, be at times both confusing and unsettling, but it will leave you satisfied in the end.
If I were hard pressed to find a comparison for Husbands, I would have to reach across mediums, a mix of both a movie and a show. Part While You Were Sleeping because of both the obvious similarity in a pseudo-husband being in a coma while other relationships blossom, but also because the bright moments are so heartfelt they feel like they belong in a Sandra Bullock movie. The other part would be Baby Reindeer. The dark part of comedy is prevalent as well as what lengths some people will go to or endure in the pursuit of fame.
Reality provides a mirror to Husbands as well. The fictional director central to the plot can best be described by a reference the novel uses more than once: Har-Gay Weinstein. Not only does it showcase some of the wonderfully irreverent humor throughout, it's a warning for some of the plot elements present. The reader will be exposed to some of the seedier sides of Hollywood and all the extortion present there, both monetarily and sexually. The echoing trauma from being a part of that machine also contributes heavily to the plot.
While the characterizations are near perfect, none of the actual characters are. The flaws and vices, even of the two main characters, aren't hidden and are actually relevant to the story itself. From getting drunk married in Vegas to an attempted road trip in a foreign country without his passport, the point of view character has plenty of external obstacles. Yet, despite having to wrangle with himself too, there's a stubborn sense of optimism that makes it hard not to cheer for.
A practically flawless novel on the technical front too (only a handful of punctuation issues), I can't recommend Husbands enough for those who enjoy heavier elements mixed in with their humor.
Who determines the worth of a person? Is it ourselves, our peers, or the law? The titular character that William H. Coles has created in McDowell dramatically changes as the novel progresses. Not only does Hiram McDowell's self-perception shift, so does the opinion of his family, his colleagues, and society at large.
A world-renowned surgeon, Hiram has a world-sized ego to match at the beginning of the novel. He is a misogynistic, neglectful father and the most apathetic doctor I have ever heard of. The opening scene has Hiram not only leave two members of his climbing expedition behind to die on Mount Everest, he rifles through one of their jackets to steal supplies while the man is pleading for help.
I do appreciate the fact that the author was able to write a character as capable of evoking strong emotions as Hiram. The author is also able to thread multiple character perspectives into a mostly cohesive narrative across multiple locations. However, the only character that has any growth is Hiram, and even that is handled in a way which made me feel robbed as a reader.
At the literal middle of the novel, a personal choice takes all of the accolades, climbing trips, and money that Hiram holds dear away from him. Hiram goes to trial, goes to jail, gets beaten up there, and escapes all on a single page of text that spans two years. We don't get a true transformation so much as a chute. One Hiram goes in, and an entirely new Hiram tumbles out. Except the new one is still self-centered and still treats women like things. The topic of Hiram's redemption is also questionable because he doesn't use his new perspective as a fugitive to try to be a better man or father. He uses it to write a memoir explaining exactly why he doesn't deserve his current situation because he is right, and everyone else is wrong.
The treatment of women is a sore point of this novel for me. I understand there is blatant misogyny present at the start because it is intended to offset the new-and-improved Hiram at the end. Yet there are more subtle instances that never go away. The author uses the format “woman [blank]” instead of “female [blank]” every time he describes a woman holding a profession (and it's arguable if the distinction is needed in the first place). If a woman is single, she is automatically depressed and desperate for sexual attention. What attracts both Hiram and his son, Billie, is also telling. Women seem to only have value to them if they exhibit demure, subservient behavior and are pretty. Hiram's thoughts about his own biological daughters in comparison to his son are often sexist. There is also an instance of Billie physically forcing one of his sisters to comply with his choice over her own.
Although decently edited, I do not think it was professionally done. I found more than a handful of errors consisting of missing commas, missing words, misspellings, and sentence fragments. Because of these errors and the reasons above, I decided to rate McDowell by William H. Coles at 2 out of 5 stars. I recommend this book to readers who enjoy character studies, particularly ones that delve into the medical profession.
I do not recommend this book to young readers. In addition to language and descriptions of sex, there are a few other elements that can put off some readers. One of Hiram's biological children enters into a sexual relationship with a step-sibling. A school shooting, attempted suicide, and euthanasia are also graphically described as is the aftermath of such violence.
Before reading ‘Gringo: My Life on the Edge as an International Fugitive', I never thought I would root so much for a person who has broken the sheer amount of laws that Dan “Tito” Davis has. Told in almost completely chronological order, the story describes a roller coaster of a life that would touch and be touched by some of the most infamous drug cartels and lords. The wry humor and adaptive force of “Tito” invite the reader along on a journey that often seems too big to be real.
The novel opens with a note from collaborator Peter Conti describing his first meeting with the almost larger-than-life Dan Davis. Without having read that forward, I probably would have thought this was fiction instead of a biography. Because, after a brief prologue describing a turning point in his life, the reader is taken through virtually every moment of a very eventful life, starting at birth.
Growing up poor, “Tito” was very focused on making money from an early age and showed an extraordinary amount of self-discipline. Money continues to be a huge factor throughout the novel, leading Davis to make both empires and fortunes. Setbacks happen to everyone, but the way in which this person rolls with those punches and swings back is what kept me reading. While I don't personally condone some of those choices, quite a few of the drugs Davis sold were not illegal at the time he sold them.
“Tito” also frequently expresses remorse and can often be self-deprecating, but paired with the dry humor and delivery, I would never call it whiny as some characters can lean. In addition to allowing this first-hand look into his head, I am happy that the novel was written in first person because I would have had a hard time keeping track of all the different personas that he assumes during the course of his journey. The choice of first-person point of view also humanizes many of the people he meets, including some of those aforementioned drug lords.
Because of how enjoyable this novel was to read, I chose to award Gringo: My Life on the Edge as an International Fugitive by Dan “Tito” Davis and Peter Conti with 5 out of 5 stars. I recommend it to anyone who likes nonfiction with an edge, much like the recent movie: American Made. If you are sensitive to language, descriptions of drug use, or descriptions of violent acts, you might want to choose a different book.
The premise of the book and general plot line are the only reason this ended up being a 2 and not a 1 star. SO much more editing needs to be done on this because there are multiple spelling issues, missing words, and punctuation issues (not even just missing but bad spacing or chopping up of words with the punctuation). One of the characters also has a name error (flips to a different one and back). Repetition becomes an issue, bloating the page count.
Written from multiple perspectives, the same line can crop up over and over with maybe a word or two of variation. Though it makes sense to have the same scene happen sometimes from those different points of view, the continuity of where things have happened or placement of things and people within the scene arbitrarily change for no reason. For example, people inside a vehicle in one chapter where they never got into the vehicle in the very next chapter from another character's perspective of the same scene.
In some vampire novels, the fangs might as well be a costume piece. Surface Scratch definitely does not fall into that category: the sex, blood, and violence are very real. The plot also tries to give a realistic take on how a human given immortality might act, and how refined a person's tastes can get over a longer-than-normal life span.
The action scenes, whether fighting or very much not fighting, were among the highlights for me. Vivid descriptions, especially in terms of senses or space, made it easy for me to picture what was happening as I read. Dialogue and a great cast of supporting actors also helped keep me invested despite some of what I found rougher about the novel.
Barely out of his teens, Caleb has already had enough bad experiences to last a lifetime before Surface Scratch even begins. The raw voice of that character drew me in from the excerpt and made me excited to read more. This is someone who's clearly scarred but not broken. Unfortunately, much of what resonated with me at the start began slowly disappearing. Not entirely gone by any means, but the character loses too much agency too fast, even in the context of entering a BDSM relationship with a much, much older man.
How these kinds of relationships are portrayed is my other main concern. Yes, there is more than one instance where someone helps Caleb work through traumatic episodes (never from any of the new ordeals, but still stemming from the car accident that left him so scarred). In fact, one of my favorite scenes involves using the senses to walk him back from a panic attack. Overall though, it was hard to root for a relationship that felt so unhealthy for one of its members. I understand it's hard to marry vampire with safe BDSM practices, but I was hoping to see more of that here. Especially given how inexperienced one partner is.
Given that quasi warning above, I did very much enjoy reading Surface Scratch and am happy that the author is continuing the saga in a second book. Fans of m/m romance with a touch of violence or of morally grey vampires should take a bite.
Ayn Rand, shadow conspiracies involving corrupt billionaires, and maligned heroes trying to clear their name? I was sold from the blurb on Libertyland, and author Peter Sacks didn't fail in the premise's execution. A one-man army standing up to injustice could be painted as a libertarian's dream. But in this, it might just be their nightmare.
The main protagonist that keeps this thriller together is hard not to like, largely because of the focus and pacing of the first part. A father trying to reconnect with his son. A soldier trying to come home from the battlefield only to find an arguably worse enemy on his doorstep. Those aren't shoes that many readers have been in before, but the emotions behind those situations bleed off the page and are hard not to relate to. I also appreciated that the larger cast of characters, especially the women, had both a purpose in the plot and felt fleshed out. Something almost atypical for this genre, but I wish there was more of.
What kept me from giving Libertyland the highest rating largely boiled down to two things: follow up and editing. The excerpt (please go read it!) exudes passion and defiance, resulting in an act that is almost incendiary. And not just literally. However, I feel that opener may have peaked too high or hit too different a note from the rest of the work. What comes after, while a highly enjoyable read, doesn't quite match it. Not in quality, but at least in tone and impact from a single scene. On the editing end, there were a decent number of mistakes, mostly missing punctuation.
I recommend Libertyland to readers who enjoy strong characterization, well-described action, and politically driven egoists that seem a little too real. Prior knowledge of Ayn Rand's works isn't necessary, but having consumed those novels too, the allusions did add a flavor to the overall work. If you liked Reacher, in any of its portrayals, you'll like this one.
Set in a small town centered less on industry and more on the college located there, Mike Thorne opens Murder in Memory by explicitly stating that the novel takes place in 1983 and reminding the reader that this is before forensics, cellphones, and other modern technology. Located in the deep South, the town of Harper is brought to life and shaped by the characters from many of their own points of view. The local police force scrambles to find the killer after multiple coeds fall to the killer, the first in an even more gruesome manner than the next.
Like most murder mysteries, the author introduces the killer and the first victim perishes in the first few pages. However, this novel is more of a thriller than a traditional murder mystery. The identity of the murderer is fully revealed well before the halfway point of the novel, let alone at the end. After the reveal, the focus changes from a “whodunnit” to a how is this guy going to try to get away with it. Plagued with debilitating headaches, whether a cure will come in time also plays a part. One of my favorite lines is used to describe these migraines: “an octopus spreading its tentacles through his brain.”
Scene descriptions were wonderful, but lengthy. For a small town, an extraordinary amount of people have died within its citizens' lifetimes. More people died in the novel to accidental deaths than to the killer. That is not even counting how many times a character would go to a new place and reminisce about the multiple people that had perished there.
As stated above, the novel is written with alternating points of view for various characters, sometimes changing with the chapter, sometimes changing multiple times within the same chapter. I did not personally care for this structuring because the trend of which character receives this special type of focus gives away much of the remaining suspense that was not already taken by the killer's reveal. In addition, some of the different points of view highlighted the fact there was little to no growth for characters within the novel.
The scenes felt more fleshed out than the characters playing in them. Each one almost fit in a box: unsure detective, wily doctor, timid professor, playboy cop, fat girl, and unfaithful wife. Other than the ones that perish, not much changes. In particular, the way that women are portrayed in the novel frustrated me more than a few times. The only one not obsessed with sex or being in a relationship with a man is the girl too big to apparently be thinking about anything other than food.
There are a handful of errors located in the novel, mostly incorrect commas and a few misspellings. Yet, one glaring error is that one character, Dave Beasley, inexplicably becomes Dave Parker in the latter third of the novel. These issues, in addition to my issues with character emotion (or lack thereof) led me to ultimately give this novel 2 out of 5 stars. I appreciate the intriguing premise that Mike Thorne has offered here, but I think too much was given away too early. I do not recommend this book to children due to the explicit descriptions of murder and rape. If you like unconventional thrillers, or are interested in theoretical psychology, you should enjoy Murder in Memory.
Three very different point of view characters weave together a plot that contains many of the elements we see on the news today: gun violence, the politics surrounding what to do about it, and the threats many of those trying to actually do something receive. The action and suspense made it easy to turn the next page. And despite a few technical issues, Militia Men should be on any reading list for a fan of thrillers with a dose of political intrigue.
A senator, Alexandra Austin, serves as both a figurehead for a landmark gun control bill and a symbol of all that is wrong with America for a far right militia group, the True Patriots. Viper, the leader of that group and Robb, the reluctant recruit, round out the trio of point of view characters. Rotating the action between the three was an excellent decision by the author, and really helps drive the story along.
However, Alex's portion did a little too much of the heavy-lifting. Because we live in the villain's head so much, I would have liked to see a more three-dimensional character built up. Instead, Viper feels more flat as the novel progresses. Robb is a fantastic character with fantastic motivations, but I would have wished for a little more agency from him earlier on.
From a technical standpoint, the writing is largely solid. At times, a character might know or say something that seems almost clairvoyant, but it's not enough to detract from the story. However, there is a fully duplicated scene toward the middle. That and my personal issue with flash-forward prologues are largely why I rated this a “worth reading” instead of a “loved it!” The opening scene, the prologue, catches back up to what's happening in the main portion of the novel near the very end. Doing that takes away a lot of the stakes and tension for the reader because 90% of the novel operates almost like a flashback.
Militia Men is a solid and fast-paced political thriller that is well worth reading. The author promises a character-driven story and delivers! A few of the cast resonated with me more than others, but I did enjoy my time with all of them. I do caution that there are some graphic depictions of violence, nothing gratuitous though. But because of Alex's backstory, some of it involves children.
After reading The Path Beneath Her Feet, I had two initial thoughts. First, there really needs to be more fiction with powerful women protagonists who aren't barely adults. And second, the author has grown substantially in her craft from debut novel to sequel. Considering how much I had already enjoyed the first journey with Dr. Eliza Edwards, a marked improvement is commendable!
The doctor might be facing new challenges such as the Great Depression, the World War II, and grandmotherhood, but her determination to succeed, especially as a woman in the medical field, didn't change. Like The Unlocked Path, I learned from this piece of historical fiction, a testament to how well researched both titles are. The weaving of true people and events in with the fictional was just as compelling as the first time around.
There's a smattering of typos, but the writing and readability overall is largely very solid. The only major thing keeping me from giving The Path Beneath Her Feet a higher rating stemmed from how I felt Dr. Edwards' growth was honored from book to book. Sequels often fall prey to dialing back or resetting parts of character arcs to create conflict again in the new story. That happens a little here while a new complication felt more rushed. Expanding on it would have only benefitted the larger story.
Those who enjoy historical fiction, particularly with a slant toward empowerment of women, should read The Path Beneath Her Feet. Like the first novel in the duology, the characters come alive from the page.
Set in a land named Tianya, A Dance to Wake a Dragon showcases traditional eastern elements inspired by both locations and lore. Dragons, magic, and nature vie against modernization and urbanization, clashing in a way that reminded me of one of my favorite entities across all media: Princess Mononoke.
The initial premise sucked me in. Shengli, a young village girl, finds that the legacy she shared with a mother she lost far too early in life might just save the world. Dancing and music, tangled with connection outside of more than just humans, can save a broken land. Forced into a lot of responsibility for young teens, the main character, her twin friends, and her loyal dog with so much personality were also highlights of the novel for me. The execution was not.
A Dance to Wake a Dragon is listed as a young adult or teen novel, but I don't feel like it matches that target audience. Shengli being described as thirteen does meet expectations for the genre, but the way she acts and talks seem quite a bit younger. The twins also feel the same way. If it weren't for the themes depicted or the writing style, I'd actually recommend the title to a younger audience.
Some phrases and depictions of the places Shengli and company journey through are downright beautiful. However, they are often mired within sentences that make you feel like you've run a marathon by the end of them. Out of curiosity, I counted up a few toward the beginning. Multiple sentences run past 100 words and throw clause after clause at you, often getting lost in the middle a little. The general “readability” level matches postgraduate expectations. Because the content is geared toward younger readers, and the writing style creates a difficulty that's highly demanding, I am not really sure what the target audience is.
Pacing also set me back a little as a reader. I'd argue that this is actually two books smashed into one, leaving it hard to let some of the more emotional scenes truly have the impact they deserve. Without the proper time spent on them, some events feel more like they were included for shock value rather than for the purpose of the story. For me personally, I would have DNFed after one of them if I hadn't already been so invested by the time it happens.
I appreciated the subversiveness of several tropes in A Dance to Wake a Dragon. The journey of our heroes isn't to slay a dragon to save the world, but to summon one. Music and dance are the methods of winning, not slashing and hacking. Readers looking for that flavor of different should enjoy.
Irreverent and sarcastic at times then waxing toward love and gratitude at others, Undetectable shares the survival story of a flawed but genuine individual. Each chapter and section marches chronologically forward, usually grouped by the rise and fall of relationships the author enters hopefully into. This isn't a memoir where the focus tries to purport themselves as courageously perfect. It's an invitation to voyeuristically partake in someone's struggle to find connection when a disease and society often punishes him for it.
The style of writing used in Undetectable is different from what I've read in most modern memoirs. Wording and flow aren't direct but come with a flourish. Yet, the author never sacrifices on the substance either. Instead of straightforward prose, the delivery almost seems lyrical or even poetic. When we are treated to the first poem inspired by Charles' life, that feeling makes more sense.
I was fascinated most by the emotions conveyed as the author shares his story and the history learned along the journey. We follow not just the rise and fall of relationships, but the rise and fall of treatments. From herbs to pioneering drugs, the hope of a cure and the setback of sometimes disastrous side effects drive the narrative. Vanity and sense of self war with the need to survive, both physically and mentally.
Undetectable would appeal to a broad spectrum of nonfiction reader. History from the perspective of a person living with AIDS. Not one of the first, as the author is quick to point out, but one that's ridden the waves of pioneering treatments. I also recommend this book to those looking for a memoir that presents with a flourish but doesn't lose the lead.
*This did not affect my rating because I don't think the published ebook would have this problem, but the epub version up for review had the first few characters of each line cut off.
A violent coup leaves one survivor from the old regime, a young princess forced to endure torture unimaginable for the four years following. The author pulls no punches, showcasing not only some scenes of actual torture but a realistic look at the aftermath of being a victim to it. I like my harder to read fiction, but I do still need some glimmer of light to be enjoyable. Darkly visceral, the black humor of the princess keeps Forged By Pain on the right side of too much.
Names hold a strong place in the narrative, from the princess proclaiming herself “Rat” to the crippled man meant to be her abuser that she names “Pretty.” Not just irony, it highlights the trajectory of the characters and plot. Rat's self-awareness even in her madness makes her an intriguing character, one impossible not to sympathize with despite her growing obsession with revenge. She doesn't want to be called by her old name, instead taking ownership of her new self. It's harder to break what's already been broken.
The cast of characters and their interactions with Rat, either in support of or violently against, made Forged By Pain hard to put down. I became invested, and perhaps morbidly fascinated as well, in the machinations of a tortured, complex mind bent on making people pay. Here too, Bilos achieves a good balance exploring more than just negative emotions. Dialogue and description are also very strong throughout the novel.
While there is much to love about Forged By Pain, a few issues on the technical side kept this from being a higher rating for me. Errors, mostly with homophones, can distract from the otherwise flowing narrative. Formatting issues around paragraph breaks started picking up in the last portions when immersion is needed the most. There is also a plot thread that doesn't seem to fit into the rest of the story.
Readers looking for a dark fantasy with a solid revenge plot will be sure to enjoy this novel. Rat, Pretty, and the rest of the motley cast are well worth the emotional journey.
I'm a sucker for puns, but I wasn't a sucker for deciding to read Mother Fracking Earth Day. I came for the title and stayed for the contents. Politics, comedy, and mystery swirl together to create a narrative that's meant to entertain. Although I have not read the rest of the series that came before, this was such a fun read even as a standalone.
Satire, especially satire willing to touch on current and controversial politics, seems to be getting rarer and rarer. Thankfully, Sapp does not shy away from tackling those politics. He also tackles them rather masterfully too. Two towns very close in geography but worlds apart on ideology represent the left and right platforms largely how the other ideology would see them. This means all the stereotypes, all the talking points people spout, show up to create walking and talking caricatures of ideals. Somehow though, what could seem more like cut-outs in other author's hands still felt relatable, and I still cared about what happened to these characters. Even the ultimate villains behind the kidnapping plot feel more fleshed out than many works that take themselves a lot more seriously.
Two things kept this from being the top rating for me. A romantic subplot felt pigeonholed and took away from the story instead of enhancing it. Maybe it would have made more sense within the larger narrative of the series. Coming in with just this book in my hands, it just didn't. The other issue was polish. Typos and a few other errors could sometimes draw me out of the story.
If you enjoy your comedy mixed in with a little bit of intrigue, I highly recommend giving Mother Fracking Earth Day a chance. I've already added the previous books of the series to my reading list and look forward to the next holiday doused with satire.
Given how much of the western world has grown increasingly concerned about aging populations, the premise of Childless felt very relevant. The government depicted in the novel hatches a radical plan to kill two birds with one stone. One, get rid of the pesky immatureness of pre-adulthood. Two, push a steady stream of ready workers into a waning force.
Because of that correlation with real problems and the label on Discovery as a dystopian, it took me entirely too long to realize that this novel was meant to be satire. The difference in how much I enjoyed reading Childless between before and after that realization is huge. Through that lense, more of the story makes sense, and the extreme emotional swings or reactions have more of a place. Characters didn't seem quite as ‘spoof-like' anymore when you realize that was how they were supposed to be.
Even with that change in perspective, the novel can be a struggle to read at points largely because of its dialogue. What the characters say to each other isn't the real issue though, just the formatting. Much of the time, standard quotation marks aren't used (the opening mark looks like a circle almost). Alone, such a thing wouldn't be as distracting, but it kept swinging back and forth throughout the novel. Paragraph breaks for dialogue and the tags that help a reader understand which character is speaking and what they are doing while talking doesn't follow norms either. I often had to go back and reread.
The author employs a motley cast of characters in Childless, reminding me a few times of a circus. I enjoyed most of them, especially after looking at the work in the right light. However, I struggled with all but one of the female characters and how these characters became portrayed. If a female were present in the scene, the reader could expect one of or a combination of three things: crying, yelling, or throwing themselves at the protagonist. Whether intentional or not, this disappointed me.
I do think there would still be quite a bit of enjoyment to be had if a reader were to go in with the right expectations. Just think more A Modest Proposal than Children of Men.
As someone with a love for both the mountains and the sea, the settings promised by Where the Seabird Soars drew me in almost instantly. The beauty of the writing in the excerpt and the symbology within the stories the female protagonist, Tempest, hears from her grandpa only cemented my choice to read further. Two people from vastly different worlds and experiences came together to create her, and perhaps that will be in her future as well.
Beyond that first scene, the story focuses largely on two portions of Tempest's life. A quick summer camp in her teens that takes her away from the sea for one of the first times in her life. After the first third or so, the focus shifts instead to a few years later. A giant tsunami forces her inland and back toward a strong connection she'd formed at that one camp. A seabird lost in the mountains.
The polish dips and rises more than a few times after the beauty of that first scene, often making the rougher spots that much more frustrating by comparison. From a technical standpoint, there are some issues with purple prose, overuse of the same descriptions, and a decent spattering of errors. At a broader view, a younger Tempest feels like a different person entirely from the older Tempest, and the story isn't typical of women's fiction.
A trigger warning is given at the start of Where the Seabird Soars for rape and suicide, something that I'm always grateful to authors for including. However, that wasn't something included in the information present on Reedsy, and the book is only flagged with mild explicit content when it should be more. The depiction of the rape, the aftermath, and the continual lack of respect for Tempest's thoughts and feelings throughout the portion of the aged up latter parts don't fit the genre.
Even if this novel wasn't for me, Where the Seabird Soars still has plenty of positive traits. The author includes several of her own poems, and that ability shows in the best of her prose as well. Readers looking more for borderline dark romances and burly mountain men with dominant traits should enjoy this work.
Not many people are strangers to pain, and nobody really welcomes it. Saint Augustine once said “the greatest evil is physical pain.” However, Dominique Bourlet is trying to change that perspective in Happy Healing. You should not necessarily enjoy pain, but you should understand it is merely an alert being sent by a part of your body.
The author argues that systemic pain can lead to negative emotions toward not only the feeling of hurt itself, but also the body part or parts it is originating from. These negative emotions can cause a feedback loop that results in more pain and more anger, increasing the hurt every cycle. In eight “magic” steps, Bourlet outlines what he calls the “Happy Healing Protocol”. This process includes identifying the painful body part in question and personifying this body part as a whole, separate being. Viewing that body part as a human being can then lead to improving a person's relationship with that body part and hopefully reduce the pain stemming from it to near zero.
Happy Healing does not explicitly state when the protocol should be used, but it does acknowledge the fact that it might not work for every person in every situation. The initial section of the book makes the conjecture that ongoing pain is largely mental or emotional and not just physical. I took this to mean the emphasis was more on helping with psychosomatic pain than other kinds of pain.
Based on the description provided by this site and the blurb provided by Amazon, I had thought the protocol would be focused on taking steps to reduce mental stress and relieve pain. What I had not expected was that the word “magic” in the subtitle for Happy Healing was intended more literally than figuratively. I was not very prepared for mentions of “astral clapping” and “auric eggs.” In addition, some steps required “praying to the Cosmos,” or “body magnetization.” I would probably not have chosen to read and review this book if I had known that so much focus would be placed on an astral version of faith healing. Because of this, my rating is based more on the presentation of the information in this book and not the content itself.
To avoid using a long phrase every time, Bourlet chose to use the rather unique acronym “BOP” to represent the “BO.dy P.art in pain.” The use of the acronym is inconsistent as is the author's decision to hyphenate the phrase or what words to capitalize. In addition, the acronym sometimes includes an article within it and sometimes doesn't, even from sentence to sentence. Both of the following sentences appear toward the end of the book where the author reiterated what his acronym stood for, as he did more than once per chapter.
‘All these spots are also called “BOPs.” BOP stands for “BOdy Part in pain or discomfort.”'
‘BOP, the Body-part-in-pain, is our suffering partner when physical pain and discomfort are showing up. I thank BOP, all the BOPs, suffering from pain.'
Early on in Happy Healing, Dominique Bourlet states that for the sake of convenience, a gender will be assigned to both a patient (female) and a “BOP” (male). I understand this may have been done to simplify writing in a language such as the author's native French where direct and indirect articles are gendered. However, this led to some personally uncomfortable sentences like the following:
‘He will remain fit longer if you care for him. Do a little more than say hello: have a lifestyle which makes him happy!'
‘The patient realizes that the troublemaker is not him, but herself! Full of humility, the patient looks up at BOP who is now in the upper and superior position.'
Some awkward phrasing and a number of errors lead me to believe that this book was not professionally edited. There are numerous missing commas along with misspelled words, misplaced words, missing words, and a handful of subject-verb disagreements. Almost every few pages, there were also line breaks in the middle of sentences. Because of this, I ultimately decided to rate Happy Healing at 2 out of 5 stars. If you are interested in being “one with the Cosmos” and learning more information about alternative healing methods, this book should be insightful. If you are uncomfortable praying to the universe at large or individual body parts with their own separate mantras, you will not likely enjoy this one.
Without making this about myself, much of what the author pours out about himself and his story resonated deep with me. Mental health might finally be getting a larger focus by both the medical community and the world, but that focus only seems to be highlighting just how far we still have to go. That need to do better is more than apparent in Unstill, where an attempt to quell persisting anxiety only makes things harder.
Lenny Gallo lays himself bare, from childhood to the before, during, and after first seeking treatment for his mental health. What makes his perspective so unique is that he's now writing his journey through two lenses. Both that of a patient and a practitioner. Despite being a victim in a sense of the medical machine that led to developing a disorder from medication that didn't even help to alleviate the original reason to start it, he was eventually able to cross the aisle. To start helping others seeking help with their mental health.
Of the many things I appreciated about Unstill, the optimism and resilience shown in the writing and in the author's personal history kept me invested. Each attempt to be heard by a professional, each medication that seemed right then wasn't could have been the last attempt. I could feel the desperation each time something didn't work, but the hope still shone through too.
The tone Gallo adopts is personable and engaging. The first few pages, full of concern about a rash in a particular area, convinced me this was going to be a fun read despite the sometimes difficult-to-approach content. The author's ability as a storyteller is undeniable. From anecdotes to medical information, I was thoroughly intrigued by this memoir. I highly recommend Unstill to any reader interested in the topics of mental health or difficult personal journeys.
This was not my typical read, but the premise and the excerpt I read influenced me enough to give it a try. Part near-future science fiction, part social-commentary-bordering-on-manifesto, the underbelly of New York ends up being a wise choice of setting. Even though Popsicle felt like a drug-induced trip at many times, some of the locations help ground an otherwise unmoored narrative.
I can honestly say I adamantly disliked the main character, but I still found myself turning page after page, actively rooting for him all the same. The read is not an easy one though, rambling and tumbling from one thought to another, one scene to another. Normally, this wouldn't have worked, but given happens within the novel and who the point of view character is, this style of approach made sense.
Two things kept this from being a must read for me though. One is the inconsistency with the use of dialect within prose. Every so often, a word would be misspelled or grammar bent to be more colloquial. Yet, this wasn't done enough I think, and it often just felt more like typos instead. The other issue I had was with just how often there would be time skips back or forth with little fanfare. Yes, the confusion makes sense with the story of the novel, but it didn't have to be convoluted enough that it was almost impossible to follow the thread without rereading a few sentences.
I received an advance review copy for free, and I am leaving this review voluntarily.
A beautiful cover and evocative title were what initially piqued my interest in reading Only the Pretty Ones. I was further intrigued by the premise that promised this to be a much more modern type of serial killer. I shudder to think how much more prolific some of the murderers operating in the 70s, 80s, and 90s could have been with something like dating apps being available back then. The moral grayness of a character catfishing as their sister then landing themselves into hot water because of that decision also pulled me in. Yet, My expectations for what the novel would be didn't quite match what I thought it was. And as beautiful as that cover remains, it doesn't really match any of the crimes therein.
The technical quality of the writing is better than most novels I'd review this low. Other than a few typos/errors scattered through, the author does well to deliver an emotional heft to some scenes, and descriptions can easily create mental pictures. However, the meat of the story, especially through the lens of crime fiction, just isn't where it needed to be. The characters are quick to throw around monikers like serial killers and copycat killers, but the criminals and crimes depicted in the novel don't match those terms even by looser definitions. We don't even know until the very end how many victims there were of the newer killer. The natural build up of tension or fear in a small community ravaged by these killings isn't there, and not just because of the statement being made about the community or how it reacts to different ethnicities of victims. Even through the lens of the main character who knows much more than the people at large do, reactions aren't consistent with what I would expect. The few times there is an attempt for more emotion or stakes, things feel forced and artificial because of the void present in the rest.
Emotional whiplash describes a lot of what I felt from the main character. Crushes and the newest accusation of who she thinks the culprit is come fast and hard, with little to no consideration for what came previously. Even a personal tragedy early on in the novel seems to have no real import other than to be a talking point with other characters, the loss only really showing in dialogue and not in the rest. Motivations for many of the characters felt missing or just suffered from a lack of build up, and I quite often kept asking myself...but, why?
I struggle with giant leaps of intuition being what drives the plot forward in crime or mystery fiction, particularly when the character repeatedly shows bad judgment in previous guesses. I'm also in the school of thought that twists are exciting but should have that trail of breadcrumbs to make them worthwhile. With this one, it didn't necessarily come out of left field. Yet, I found myself asking the same question again...but, why?
Despite those sentiments, I do still believe some readers will enjoy Only the Pretty Ones as long as they go in with the right expectations. Readers looking for something with crime or mystery as the focus and a well-executed plot to match should keep searching. This one is lighter on the sleuthing and heavier on the teen angst.
Reading a novel from someone you've met through social media always hits a bit different, and I very much appreciate being able to get my hands on a copy of For the Love of Lily from the author herself. The main premise is a bit of a guilty pleasure of mine, a love triangle but specifically one between both new to their lives and someone who has been around for a while. Does the center of the triangle look forward to all the possibilities with someone new, or do they respect all the history shared with someone who already fits into their life?
At first, some of the colloquialisms threw me because I didn't realize the setting of the novel. Once I was reading with the right lens though, I found the overall tone charming and quirky, just like the main love interest at the center of the triangle. I liked the character herself, even if sometimes her actions (or lack of action) annoyed me. Like many romances, I also think I liked her best friend just a tad bit more and found her a scene stealer.
On paper, the two suitors for the titular Lily appear almost to possess equal potential as romantic partners. Incredibly high potential to the point realism does cave to romantic fiction a bit, a trope of the genre. However, both suitors aren't perfect, and even show traits that border on some hallmarks of toxic masculinity. On one hand, we have manipulation and the seed of an idea that nice guys who put in the time as a friend earn the upgrade to more than friend by default. On the other, we have someone for the propensity to destroy or break objects when they are angry. The protagonist does call out some of those traits with the first but seems to just sweep the other under the rug (in both this novel and the sequel). Considering why Lily wasn't wanting to date for so long, I found her lack of acknowledgement regarding the latter behavior even more problematic. It's my own personal bias showing through, but it was hard to respect the difficulty of Lily's decision because of how much a dealbreaker one suitor's actions would have been for me.
I teetered between this rating and a lower one largely because of two things. Love triangles inherently come with a choice, made by the main love interest. Stay with one, end things with the other, or even just all three getting together in some form or fashion are how things usually play out. I don't want to spoil anything, but that doesn't really come into play here, and it cements some of the issues I had with Lily. Indecisive almost to the point of flighty, she swings almost constantly between crying or euphoric. The other thing that impacted rating the most is ease of reading. British and American standards of English differ substantially on the use of commas, and for readers venturing beyond their borders, it can take some getting used to. However, it was the sometimes frequent missing words that detracted from the reading experience a bit, especially since it seemed to occur more in linchpin or highly emotional scenes.
Romance fans that enjoy love triangles that see-saw to the very end should take a chance on For the Love of Lily, especially those with a soft spot for golden retriever personalities in their men.
This shorter nonfiction combines two topics I don't think I would have ever thought to put together myself. I also wonder what it says that I've been to every single one of the restaurants described here (and liked all but one of them from what I remember). Because the author wasn't raised in America but came over just before his college and medical school days, that slightly outsider perspective made those parts all the more enjoyable.
Many readers disliked those portions or somehow seemed blindsided by the inclusion. If you are only looking to read medical based memoirs or humor, I recommend choosing one that doesn't mention restaurants in the title. The addition should not have shocked anyone. I do wish that there might have been a little more connection between the review and the part of the author's medical journey he's sharing with us after.
Yet, I enjoyed parts enough that I still rate I Watch You Sleep very highly. And if you want to skip the anecdotes of the foray's into some of the most famous casual dining restaurants the US has to offer, you can easily skip over the italics and straight to the medicine. The only downside is missing the author at some of his most humorous and relatable points.
I laughed, I teared up at a few points, and I learned quite a bit along the way too. I almost went the doctor route because everyone kept telling me I should. Books like this give me so much ammo to use to support the decision I ultimately made to steer clear. What I Watch You Sleep does best is give a pretty stark description of just what medical school is like while the irreverent presentation of the information keeps it enjoyable.
While many readers wouldn't view satire as a palate cleanser, I needed the dose of humor one would bring between darker stories. At the base level, Canceled more than brought that needed comedy. I laughed my way through quite a few sections, as characters primped, preened, and debased themselves on and off the camera (or at least trying to) for fame and fortune. Not just the characters that were originally meant to be on film, either.
The story holds nothing sacred when it comes to the hustle culture surrounding the internet and revenue streams that content creators can set up. From creating new celebrity cryptocurrencies to the parasocial relationships that drive the public's fixation on online personalities, everything is on the table. When one family already making bank from that hustle decides to pile a reality show onto the heap, they find everything about themselves is on the table too. The thirst for consumption from their fans leads to a real problem with privacy; the mirror held up to our reality a clever one.
Lane and her daughters might be the initial focus of the reality show, but the circle widens with each NDA signed by crew. Even the younger brother personifying many of the gamer goth stereotypes right down to living in the basement gets dragged into it. Many of those periphery characters getting caught up in the web drove my favorite moments.
As much as I did enjoy reading Canceled, a few things kept me from rating it higher. I felt like there wasn't a strong through-line while I was reading. This was partly because the narrative doesn't really have protagonists in a traditional sense, more like a giant harem each doing their own thing. In a manner not unlike reality TV, the typical pattern of a story isn't followed either, and a few threads never get tied up. The other issue for me was errors. Missing words and typos happened frequently enough to take note, and took me out of the story a bit.
If readers are looking for a laugh, particularly one that doesn't shy away from poking fun at both politics and the internet, Canceled more than fulfills that.