Christine

I read this because I really loved Doctor Sleep, and found 11/22/63 compelling if imperfect. So I thought King might have his groove back. Plus, everyone told me this definitely had Lovecraftian themes. Sounded good!

I found it decidedly meh. The first three-quarters of the book is cumbersome setup that utterly failed to impart a sense of building doom, eldritch horror, or any real interest for me. All the horror in that section is confined to real-life, tragic headline sorts of horror, and that may work for some people, but it's definitely not what I'm looking for in my weird fiction.

King does eventually deliver on the Lovecraftian theme, with a concept that is admittedly very horrifying. But I found it undercut by his use of one element. No spoilers, but he did something that he literally wrote about as a weak point in horror in Danse Macabre, and so it kind of made me laugh, rather than shudder.

If you like Lovecraft, King's short stories “Jerusalem's Lot,” “N,” and even “Crouch End” are far superior, in my humble opinion.

This put me through an emotional wringer! At first it was a bit of a slog, and the detective story didn't really draw me in. But then the overall mystery and the political machinations really got me interested, and I couldn't wait to find out what happened next. Then it seemed like every time we were closing in on a climax and resolution, there would be a new, more difficult threat or challenge. The repeatedly rising tension eventually drove me to look up the plot summary of the last 15% or so, because my nerves just couldn't handle any more “What NOW?!” revelations.

Despite my anxiety, the ending brings together the emotional threads of the story in a pretty damn satisfying way. And the plot elements are resolved, though I found it a little confusing. Or unsatisfying, or something. Without giving spoilers, a big issue that drove the plot in a very urgent way suddenly gets treated as relatively trivial, and it didn't sit right with me, but I guess I can see the argument in the other direction (that it truly became relatively trivial given what develops).

Anyway, this was a really good story with some wonderful characters. Still, I'm not sure I'll read the next one, since the pacing wasn't a terrific match with my tastes. In addition to the ratcheting spiral of tension, there was a lot that could have been trimmed and suited me fine - less navel-gazing by the characters and more economical action scenes would have been nice. But I can also see why people love this book, and might welcome the slower pace and investment in detail. The characters you get to know are beautifully drawn and feel like friends by the end.

This is a fun superhero origin story, with a new kind of American hero - a Jersey girl of Pakistani extraction, who battles her own identity issues and her family's expectations at least as much as bad guys.

This was an intriguing start, but I felt like there should have been more story - it's more the setup for an adventure than an adventure itself. Still, I can't complain, given that it was free to read on Kindle Unlimited. I'll definitely check out the next volume!

This requires patience - it's in the vein of the other Mitchell I've read, which means it's really a single short story seeded among a group of other short stories. This frustrates me sometimes because I'll want to know what happens next in the psychosoteric war, but I'll run up against the introduction of a new story that pauses the overarching plot for a good long while. Each story is perfectly lovely and interesting, with plenty of great turns of phrase, but they can take their time meandering back to the main theme.

This one is really hard to rate. I guess overall it gets a 3.5 from me - it starts out so strong, but suffers from inconsistencies and dumb science toward the end. Still, I loved the idea and the atmosphere so much, I'm rounding up my 3.5.

The key, enchanting question is, “What if Lizzie Borden did kill her parents, but she had a very good reason to do so, that must be kept secret?” It has to be a secret because no one would believe it, and she needs to stay free and prevent interference as she tries to defend her sister, her town, and perhaps the entire world from a force only her family has confronted . . . so far.

This was at its best when it was setting up the situation, establishing characters' relationships (the sisters' conflicted feelings toward each other, and the bond between Nance and Lizzie were key drivers of the story, and felt very genuine - also nice to see LGBTQ+ representation!). During the first half, the novel creates a sense of mystery and dread, and gets the reader invested in the players. The sense of desperation and isolation is palpable and touching.

As the story develops, Priest tries to create scientific insight and rules, a la your average zombie or vampire plot. This not only feels hamfisted, it also introduces a turn in the story where I feel like Priest or her editor lost their organizational and logical skills.

First, the wafer-thin scientific justification for a potential cure (becoming a monster involves symptoms x, y, and z, and this known infection creates symptoms y, z, and q, so . . . immunizing . . . er, no, infecting . . . ummm, both? will fight the monsters? Somehow?) is so silly as to be insulting.

Second, continuity errors suddenly abound. How many guns are in the house? (Early chapters two, later chapters, one) All the tables in the basement get overturned, but are magically back in order two scenes later. Lightning follows thunder. Tetanus comes from a well-understood pathogen, but also somehow comes from rusty iron. Lizzie hits a monster in the neck, explicitly missing its head, but two paragraphs later it has a head wound. It just becomes too much of a mess for suspension of disbelief, which is a shame because I was still very invested in the characters and I thought the evil (when not stupidly reduced to a scientific puzzle) was very compelling.

So, read this if you love eldritch monsters from the deep and Lizzie Borden, but go in knowing that it goes off the rails a bit at the end.

What would happen if Cli-fi and Solarpunk had a baby, which was then raised by Police Procedural?

That's the best way I can describe Bannerless. I was looking for something about a climate apocalypse that wasn't too depressing, and miraculously this presented itself. It's soon enough after The Fall to have compelling pathos, but long enough after to be optimistic. And the driving force of the story is a murder mystery pursued by the protagonist, a woman who fulfills the role of a federal agent in the new world.

That world is a weird blend of pre-industrial society and carefully curated digital-age know-how. Bards can make a living hoofing it from town to town, but Investigators can use a solar car to get to a crime scene. Villages are filled with the sounds of working looms and clucking chickens, while scientists carefully preserve the ability to make rudimentary antibiotics and antiseptics.

Oh, and birth control implants. Central to this story is the cultural practice of obligatory birth control, with households (extended families, not just couples anymore) able to earn a “banner” signifying their right to bear a child. Everyone is highly conscious of human interdependence and wary of imposing too much resource strain.

(I'm not sure I entirely buy that this would be a useful survival strategy, but hey, all bets are off when technology mostly lines up with Jane Austen while mores and knowledge are post 2010s, right?)

I found Enid a compelling character - I got invested in her relationships, her devotion to her job, and even her coming-of-age backstory (not usually my thing). The mystery pulled me along nicely while allowing glimpses of the world to add up to a coherent picture of the post-Fall world.

This was so much fun. Take the classic Scooby-Doo cartoon characters, scramble them up a bit and morph them into real-life people (and dog), suppose that they have to confront one case where it's NOT a guy in a mask, but unnameable evil they must fight, and tell that story in a totally self-referential way - this gem is what you will get.

Cantero clearly knows and loves the English language, and thereby earns the right to color outside the lines. (He won me over early, when he correctly used the word “lectern.”) Casual neologisms get cozy with OED chestnuts. Descriptions get downright fanciful, with anthropomorphized hair and chapter intros like “She flung the door open to clamorous nonreaction, silhouetted down to a bulky jacket and a baseball cap, the blue wind blowing away the title card.” During a tense dialog, a portentous question doesn't merely hang in the air, but “levitates” over the diner table. The playful use of language is worth the price of admission all by itself.

But of course the main attraction is the metafictional take on a Saturday-morning cartoon. This is very self-consciously a work about other works, peeking through the fourth wall at you with sudden stage directions or script-style dialog, then inexplicably flowing back into standard third-person narration. Meta silliness would make me laugh out loud, but I got some shivers too. This book will broadly wink at you one moment, then the next moment the winking eye deliquesces into something unspeakable staring from a dead socket.

At times I'd say to myself, “It doesn't make sense for them to do that,” or “This sequence seems a little too goofy,” only to realize that Cantero managed to evoke these reactions as a way to make the reader reflect back on the source material. To be honest, I think he uses this trick to paper over a few weak spots, but it was still fun.

Said weak spots: the pacing is a little off for me (it probably could have been shortened to good effect), and sometimes character motivations are too murky or preposterous to be fully excused by “But that's exactly what the Scooby Gang did!” But these are minor complaints. As a whole, this is both delightful and truly original (by way of putting together lots of familiar elements, from Scooby-Doo to Lovecraft to IT, in a wholly distinctive way).

I'll end by noting that I'd love to see this adapted as anime - in talented hands the sly tone could be conveyed with visual puns and references rather than textual ones, while the horror elements would really hit home! But if that never happens, I'll be satisfied to read it again.

5 stars for Gammell's artwork, 2 stars for the stories. They're pretty weaksauce renditions of urban legends and folktales. Stuff I've read or heard in much better versions. This is definitely worth picking up at the library to walk through the illustrations though! Truly creepy and disturbing, without need for reading the stories.

Good silly fun. Nothing earth-shattering, but still plenty of fun jokes and character interactions. Are there “popcorn books” the way we have “popcorn movies?” That's how I think of this series.

And the narrator on the audiobooks is one of the best I've heard - he really adds a lot to the tale!

Yay, I had time to plow through the last 3 hours of this today! My interest level varied throughout the first 40% of the book or so, ranging from “this is freaking amazing” to “hmm, is this going somewhere I care about?” But once the key conflict was established, I was hooked.

A lot of the “drag” came from something I think is actually pretty admirable - Zoey is a fish out of water who remains totally out of her depth for a believable amount of time. Her utter failure to grasp her situation results in some painfully bad decisions, but on reflection this is thoughtful character-building. Zoey isn't a Strong Female Character or Chosen One who miraculously rises to crafty politicking and ninja skills in an improbable span. She's a barista who grew up in a trailer park and that point of view credibly drives her actions.

The other characters grow more interesting around the halfway point as well. Zoey's interactions with Will are compelling, and Andre has some great lines. I got to a point where I'd love to see Echo developed more if there's a sequel. And what I wouldn't pay to see a movie adaptation with Stephen Fry as Carlton!

On occasion an attempted witticism lands with a thud, but there's ample compensation in the bits that do work, and in some golden life advice Will delivers.

This was cute and had some neat ideas about making happy coziness a part of your life on the regular. It also has nicely designed illustrations that really add to the atmosphere of the book, and it gives a small window on Danish culture that was interesting.

The big demerit for this was it felt like it had a couple/three blog-posts worth of actual content, padded out into a full book.

Still, the voice of the author is warm and self-deprecatingly humorous, and this did wind up being the ideal book to read when I woke up at 3am and couldn't get back to sleep - very snug and happy, and definitely not taxing on the brain.

If you liked The Martian, do yourself a favor and check this out. It has the same artful blend of hard sci-fi with a really fun human story.

I recommend you just jump in without knowing too much. Following Bob's journey was really entertaining. (If you know the general storyline, it's not going to ruin it or anything. I just think the earlier chapters are more fun if you learn along with Bob what's going on.)

The only demerit I can give is that this isn't so much a self-contained novel as the first piece of a giant opus that they had to split up for publishing expediency. There is one arc that kind of comes home as the book closes, but for the most part a bunch of story is just left hanging.

Luckily there are two more books, and I have a big appetite for seeing this story sprawl out across the galaxy. So many intriguing ideas, so many threads that could come together later. Bring on more Bobiverse!

This was really fun - the mystery was intriguing, keeping me thinking and guessing, and the kids were interesting, sympathetic characters. They all appear to be tropes at the beginning, but their stories deepen into believable, textured human narratives.

Wow. WOW!

I did not intend to read this book all in one sitting today. I was amazed at how instantly engaging this was. Have I really not read any Wells before? I guess not, because his visionary genius and captivating storytelling would have made an impression. Sadly I think the execrable 2002 movie put me off the idea of this story; little did I know how much it disrespected its source material!

I found this required no adjustment for the time in which it was written. The language is straightforward and the story fresh. The introductory lesson in space-time dimensions drew me in right away, and on reflection is amazing for its anticipation of relativity. It's a lean story that doesn't overstay its welcome, and maintained my thirst to know what would happen next.

Finally, the latter portion treads boldly into cosmic horror, presaging Lovecraft's vision of a universe indifferent to humanity. It's downright chilling, and fantastically imaginative and bold.

Looks like I have some catching up to do with Wells's other fiction!

This was delightful! Sometimes I think I've just aged past enjoying YA, but then something like this will come along. I was thoroughly enchanted and I couldn't wait to find out what happens next. Simon's friends and family are a lot of fun, and his journey was compelling (despite the fact that I'm not too big on coming of age stories). Looking forward to reading [b:Leah on the Offbeat 31180248 Leah on the Offbeat (Creekwood, #2) Becky Albertalli https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1510886704s/31180248.jpg 51820754]!

This is a hard one to review! I'm rounding up and giving this 4 stars, because I think it's going to stay in my head for a long time, despite some flaws.

There's a lot about this story that can be cringe-inducing - racism and sexism are elements throughout.

And on one level, this can come off pretty gross: middle-aged man objectifies young Vietnamese woman racially and sexually. It can also come across as silly: computer somehow hypnotizes (???) people into suicide.

But Varley's investment in giving the characters harrowing backstories with a strange harmony lends substance to what otherwise seems exploitative. Lisa is certainly the most interesting character, and she's not easily categorized. She talks about a deeply traumatic past that could have broken her but instead made her into the fierce, capable person she is. She doesn't dwell on the evils inflicted on her, or even paint participants in terms of good & evil. Instead, she's cheerfully and cynically using the American system to create a new future for herself, in a way that I found completely endearing.

Victor isn't as fascinating, mostly getting swept up by Lisa's energy and direction. But as we learn more about him, their relationship becomes understandable beyond the surface appearance of a man dating a woman half his age.

Even the potential silliness of the payoff does have some good groundwork in the discussions of Victor's malady and the couple's ponderings about the power of computers versus human cognition.

The very end, I found quite overwrought, even upon reflection. Still, as I said, I'll probably remember this story and mull it over again for a long time.

Very economical use of language to evoke a focused and coherent theme, plot, and character that all line up to deliver a whallop. I don't like biking and I didn't much like the main character, but Jones had me right there with him, regardless of all that! I'm definitely going to read more of his work in the coming year.

This gets high marks for bringing vegetables to the fore and coming up with some truly mouth-watering recipes. Also, there are some basic techniques such as “burning” eggplant that can become part of the cook's toolkit - to be used forever after, in many applications, not just in the particular recipe.

I can't give it five stars because it often falls into super-fussy recipes calling for a barrage of esoteric ingredients. I don't have 8 hours to cook dinner in 33 easy steps, and I don't have an artisanal goat cheese shop worthy of a Monty Python sketch in my neighborhood.

Still, some of the recipes are beautifully simple, like watermelon feta salad, and have charming notes such as, “this should be eaten on a beach.”

This came up as a suggestion when I bought Harwood's The Ghost Writer (no relation to the Polanski movie), and its main failing is the same: after many pages of wonderfully creepy atmosphere and absorbing nested tales, the ending goes right off the rails with a truncated, poorly-explained resolution. I think both books are still well worth reading, as long as you realize they won't bring it home with a satisfying conclusion. I agree with another review as well: Cottam's language becomes repetitive in a rather distracting way. I think the adjective “blearing” was used at least six times, and it became a bit annoying. Still, he really delivers atmosphere, and I enjoyed reading this enough to check out his other work.

This was good, and while I was reading I was very interested in the world-building. But once I got to the end, it curiously failed to make me want to read further. Maybe the world is too damn bleak overall, or maybe it's too hard for me to connect with the main characters. I am glad I read this, but I'm satisfied to put it down and try something else, rather than reading on.

This had an interesting concept, but the pacing felt very off to me. There's far too much exposition and background, and then the adventure seems rushed and truncated. Yet despite a boatload of setup, the main character still felt underwritten, as do most of the characters.

When I got to the end of the book and discovered that it was written around real vintage photos, it made a lot of sense. That's an interesting idea, but it seems like this needed better editorial guidance to turn it into a functioning story.

I'll be really interested to see if the movie manages to clean up the pacing and make the story more engaging. I adore Eva Green, and the upcoming movie is what inspired me to read this. I suspect this is one of those cases where translating to the screen may improve the storytelling.

It says “8 and up,” but this is a great book for any fan of weird fiction. Surely the titular uncle is named for M.R. James, and the scary stories are in that tradition. They all feature less-than-good children, and a comeuppance. The frame tale is my favorite part - Edgar and his uncle huddled by the fire in the study of the spooky old empty (?) house, with mists pressing on the windows and all manner of artifacts that inspire the stories.

The illustrations are clearly influenced by Edward Gorey, and they accentuate the stories perfectly.

Try to keep this on hand so you can grab it when fall is in the air, there's a thunderstorm (or at least a good chilly wind) outside, and you can read it by firelight.

This was lovely - a must-read for anyone who loved [b:A Man Called Ove 18774964 A Man Called Ove Fredrik Backman https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1405259930l/18774964.SY75.jpg 21619954]. I love a good “misfit finds a friend group” story, and this one is pitch-perfect. At first, Eleanor is funny and preposterous, but you quickly pick up on a deep pathos in her life that she herself is unaware of. But even when it made me cry, it had warmth and verve that sustained me. Honeyman has said she didn't want Eleanor's identity to be “victim,” and that's very well executed. The audio version was incredible, adding a lot to my reading. Cathleen McCarron weilds various Scots accents with aplomb, while giving Eleanor a distinctive voice and managing male characters with grace and ease.

It's not unexpected that this wasn't my cup of tea. I read this to check off the “Nordic Noir” prompt for the PopSugar challenge, and I struggled to find a qualifying book that I could tolerate - it's just not a genre I like much. Noir in general isn't my thing.

The police procedural component was serviceable enough. The mystery wasn't terribly satisfying, but the investigation was interesting. But that was only about half of the book - the other half concentrated on the main character's personal experiences, which can be roughly summarized into the categories of being pathetic and getting injured. But I guess this is also a pretty classic noir trope.

Oh well, I tried something different - and it had the virtue of being pretty skimmable!

I wanted to like this, and I can see why others do, but I couldn't get past meh. The fact that it explicitly imposes a male gaze POV on the reader probably didn't help.