Sean

A reasonable textual adaptation of the Chétien's poem, and a stunning visual interpretation. Very nice to read and gorgeous to look at.

Well done. Even I, who am somewhat visually illiterate, was able to follow the complex story adequately. Enjoyable read with a good point. Very good Twilight Zone.

This book seems timely to me, as I try to understand the attraction of D. Trump. Over and over what I hear from supporters of his when I listen to them is fear. They seem afraid of loss and destruction of everything they know. I don´t hate them; I know it must be scary. So the recognition in this book that the American Nazis therein were motivated by fear seems right.

I received an ARC via Netgalley.com.

A lot of fun, even though the graphic style is hard for me to “read.”

Beautiful pictures and charming, thought-provoking surreal stories. Everything good in one small book.

I love almost everything LeGuin every wrote, and this book is full of things I fully love. Especially “Paradises Lost,” which I had never read before. Four thousand people on a ship, making a six generation journey to a possibly habitable planet. One group, the “Angels,” get all religiousy and doesn't belief in the mission or the world outside the ship. All of existence is just being on the ship, doing what they are doing, seeking “bliss.” The rest of the folk are more sane than that. But what struck me as interesting is how the “religious” group more accurately mirror real world materialists who do not believe in anything outside the closed system of the material world, while the group that might be called the nonreligious are aware that their existence on the ship has its meaning from a larger unseen context that includes before the mission, after the mission, and outside the ship on a planet no one has ever seen.

I doubt that this is what LeGuin intended, but who cares? The text now exists apart from her, and that is how I read it. She frequently upends our expectations, so this flip is perfectly normal for her.

I am so glad I read March. Having been born right in the middle of the time period it covers, and not too far away, I knew nothing of what was going on, and I never really learned the details as well as I should. These events were not anything I would have learned about in history class, as they were much too recent, but I always felt I should just know about it, so I never bothered doing any real reading. I was raised around people who talked and believed just like the more vile white people presented in the clear drawings of these books, and I also knew white people who had marched and protested and prayed and written letters and dreamed of a non-segregated future. So March was a bit like going back to my childhood, including some of the uglier aspects.

“The coloreds were better off when we took care of them. They liked being slaves.” “It's just not natural sitting next to a nigra. If God had meant for us to be near them, he wouldn't have put them all in Africa to begin with.” “You know what they want to do? They want our women!” I heard parents of friends say things like that. I would go home and ask my mother to clarify. She never forbade me from associating with the kids, but she made sure I knew that their parents were full of something unwholesome.

Lewis and his two associates have produced a great reminder for those who maybe have forgotten, and an excellent history lesson for younger folk who never did know just how terrible things were. I know that white people can sometimes get tired of “Black Lives Matter” and “uppiter blacks,” but March makes it impossible to ignore the reality that things are the way they are now because of how things were sixty years ago, and how they were 100 or 300 years ago. The past is still with us, and the only way to get beyond it is to know the truth and strive to make things better.

Utterly charming and quite funny. What happens when Her Majesty, chasing her unruly corgi, stumbles upon the bookmobile and feels obliged to check out a book and then actually read it? And discovers reading for its own sake and not as a duty. Hilarity ensues, provided the reader has a dry and acerbic sense of humor.

It has been years since I read it, and since I was required to read it before entering high school I read it and wept. Most classics are classics because they are really good, even though I sometimes do not appreciate that goodness. Crusoe, on the other hand, is a classic because just enough high school English literature curriculum writers are sadistic. We hates them.

I'm glad I read Beneath and Above. They were a lot of fun and suspenseful without over-doing it. I cared about the characters, and I think I would like to meet Coop. Yes, I am sure I would.

I continue to love this story. I remain riveted by the events and fascinated by the characters and entranced by the colors. I love Saga.

I noticed something. When the cute little creatures of comet Phang pray for deliverance at the end, we, the hip, modern, not-naive readers automatically know that their naïve foolish prayer will not be answered and THEY WILL ALL DIE A HORRIBLE TERRIBLE DEATH BWAH HA HA HA HA! That's what they get for being so stupid as to believe in a "god." Good riddance. But I have noticed something that this book just confirmed. In books that are obviously trying to impress us with their materialistic cred, the "god" always fails to come through; the person praying always is disappointed. I would expect maybe a 50/50 chance just based on randomness. In the real world, sometimes people get what they pray for, sometimes they don't. In a large enough sampling of fictional worlds, where it can go however the authors want, I would expect something in the vicinity of a half chance. The (almost) invariability of the theistic hope being dashed proves to me that the authors of such books, taken as a group, are secret theists, pretending to be atheists, propounding a god who is quite real and very powerful, who hates being prayed to, and takes revenge on anybody foolish enough to do so. Either these authors are secretly trying to convince us readers of their dark theology as I suggest, or they are trying to shove their atheism down the reader's throat. Either way, I don't think it very fair or honest of them. But other than that, I love Saga.

Probably the best thing I can say about Rice Boy is that I am planning to buy a copy even though I have read the whole thing online for free. It deserves to be on my shelf, I deserve to read it on paper, and Dahm deserves the payment.

Not as deep or as expansive as the books, but it is a play, so that's just how it goes. I enjoyed it very much, and it is a worthy successor to the canonical books.

Below is the review I wrote for my library's Facebook Friday book recommendations.

This is a must-read for all fans of Harry Potter, and because of its timeless theme of conflict between a son and the father who loves him, it could be of interest to someone who has never read the Potter books or seen the movies.

I loved “Cursed Child,” but I have to admit that a lot of HP fans didn't. I think part of the reason is because they were wanting it to be something it is not. “Cursed Child” is a play, not straight fiction, and it was not written by J. K. Rowling, although she was intimately involved in its creation.

A son rebels against his father, and in the process destroys the world as everyone knows it and creates a living hell on Earth. A father, clueless and focused, has no idea what to do. Because there is magic involved, the consequences are dire; but because there is love, there is also hope.

It is a play, so you will need to enjoy it a bit differently than you do a novel. Let your imagination run wild! Picture how the action would look on stage as well as in real life. It's wild and beautiful – sometimes terrifying – but the words don't tell the whole story. That's why you need to turn your brain into a theatre with an evocative set, moody lighting, a great director and really good actors. All of that creativity has to come from your own mind. Read it, picture it, hear it and enjoy!

I like it, although it was not what I was hoping for. Hahn does a good job of telling the slightly informed Catholic something about the glories of the depths of the liturgy of the Eucharist using the book of the Revelation to St. John as a framework and touchpoint. What he does not do, which I was hoping for, is explain the structure of that book as reflecting the outline of the liturgy. That's OK; I don't fault an author for writing the book he actually wrote rather than the one I wish he had.

This is a very approachable treatment, which should be understandable to any concerned person–no degree in liturgics required. He writes with intelligence and dignity, but mars it with the cutsie chapter titles and section heads.

I still do not know for sure why I am so in love with this story, but I am. I finished this and almost burst out in anguish, “NO! Now I have to WAAAAIIIIT for volume 7. WAH!!!”

The review I wrote for my library's weekly Facebook book review.

You may or may not be familiar with the hit podcast “Welcome to Night Vale” (WTNV). You may or may not know who Cecil and Carlos are, and you may or may not understand the picture that accompanies this review. You may or may not have read the first WTNV novel, which is conveniently titled “Welcome to Night Vale.” But none of that matters. If you like the surreal and the bizarre, if you have a dark and wry sense of humor, if you don't mind being baffled just a little bit, and if (and this is the big one) if you care about the contentious issues of our day like the relationship (conflict?) between religion and science, then have I got a book for you!

When Nilanjana Sikdar is given an assignment by her boss, Night Vale's top scientist Carlos (the one with perfect hair), to find out what mysterious force is interfering with his attempts to discover what is going on with the house that doesn't exist, her investigation takes her to the Joyous Congregation of the Smiling God, where she meets Daryl. Sweet, weird, very religious Daryl. Nilanjana is not particularly sweet, not weird (except for being an outsider in Night Vale), and definitely not religious. As they learn to deal with each other as people, lovers, even friends, they are forced radically to alter their attitudes toward the other's world views. And they are forced to work together to save the world from being devoured.

Although authors Jeffrey Cranor and Joseph Fink have not written the perfect exploration of the intersection of religion and science, they have made a good faith effort, and have produced an engrossing, entertaining, and thought-provoking book. Their main sympathies seem pretty obviously in the Science camp, but they look with clear eyes at the role each mode of thought plays in human life, considering the strength and weakness of each. But forget all that; really, this is just a fun, creepy, and exciting book that will make you think and just might make you glad you are alive.

At the least science fiction presents us with a fun, interesting story to read. But it can do more. It allows us to examine ideas and consider implications in a “pure” form, by creating a world in which conditions are different enough from ours that we can think about an issue on its own, uncluttered by the demands of current reality. Analee Newitz's “Autonomous” is such a book.

Jack is a drug pirate who has dedicated her life to making medications available cheap to those who otherwise couldn't afford them—but she might be responsible for something truly terrible. Elias is the military agent who is hunting her down before she can do more harm—but he is working for devil. Newitz tells the story from each one's point of view, and it certainly can get complicated. It doesn't take long before your brain is reeling trying to figure out which good guy you should be rooting for.

But while most reviewers focus on the drug pirating and the exciting story, arguably the much more important layer is the relationship between Elias and his robot partner, Paladin. Elias likes Paladin. Really, really likes Paladin. But Paladin, a well-armed military killing machine, is a “he,” and Elias just can't get over that.

What difference does the perception of gender make in our relationships? In our erotic and romantic attractions? This is where the questions get tricky and where Newitz opens for us a futuristic world in which we can explore them. If you want to think about some big issues and have a heck of an exciting time doing it, I recommend to you “Autonomous.”

Breath-taking, beautiful art; a thrilling and fun story; all all-around great book. The Bird Boy books are some of the few that are really delightful and engaging equally for people of all ages, so feel free to share this with your children or teens, but never forget that it is a treasure aimed squarely at adults.

I really like the art and the narrative, and the double narration. I just about wanted to cry a few times, and especially in the illustrated story, there were times when I could not put the book down. I'm not at all sure how I feel about the ending, so I will leave this with three stars while I puzzle it out. But no matter how many stars I give it, I highly recommend this book to anybody who might like this sort of thing.

I liked it very much and yet I found it oddly unsatisfying. I haven't the time to create the review I would like (and the elderly cat who is sleeping in my arms makes typing difficult), so I will confine myself to a few notes.
1. I am amazed at how contemporary the 1965 world sounds to me. I was very young the year the book was published, and that was a long time ago, but the descriptions do not have the “long ago, far away” feel I would have expected. Yes, there were a few jarring notes (Oedipa today would never say “fag,” for example), but for the most part it felt quite modern to me.
2. I become impatient with what seems like verbal cuteness for its own sake. Weirdness that makes sense to the author but doesn't make sense to me, is just affected. I write that way all the time, and I need to stop. Thanks, Mr. Pynchon, for that reminder.
3. When he is not being excessively fey and preciously clever, his use of words is remarkable and sometimes beautiful. This book was, on most pages, a pleasure to read.

Exciting enough to keep me reading, and apparently well-researched enough to convince me that I know something meaningful about the time and place in which it was set, this book was compelling enough that I want to continue the story of Halfdan in the next book.

I enjoyed this very much. That is saying quite a bit, since Long dark tea-time of the soul is one of my favorite books ever. I was aware that it was not written actually by Adams, but it was a genuinely worthy homage.

Exquisitely beautiful art that will take you away to mythic lands, in the service of a worthy tale. I love everything: the sense of mystery coupled with the outright bizarre (which never ceases to be beautiful); the fun and humor which does not distract from the serious story; and the delightful environment in which to discover, perhaps, what it means to be human.

I honestly do not know how to think about this book. I love it, of course. It is very important, of course. And now I can say I have read it. It was not quite the book I was expecting, though I am not able to say precisely how it differs from what I thought it would be, and from what I wish it had been.

I very much appreciate Frankl's logotherapy, with its insistence that the will to meaning is foundational. I suspect one gets a better picture of humans if one combines the drives for pleasure, power, and meaning into one picture, and so I am loathe to say that Frankl is right and Freude and Adler were wrong. But if I were forced to pick one model from which to view myself and others, it would have to be Frankl's.

Difficult to rate or review, this book is very dated. I rather liked it, and I think its depiction of Diane to be more realistic than other reviewers. I might write more later; maybe not. I would not recommend it, really, except for historical interest.

Quite enjoyable because of the interplay between the author's normal horror genre and the cuteness of the cats and the quotidianity of the actions depicted.