Valerie

This is the scariest book I've read this year.

I think we've all read/seen episodes where the good guys “go bad.” It's a pretty standard trope. Super Sentai has an evil Blue arc just about every single season.

You have never seen the concept done in as brutally terrifying a manner as this. It's visceral and disturbing and sometimes hurts to turn the page. This book is about the things you love turning against you in ways you are incapable of actually imagining but Gail Simone is. It's honestly too much for me at points (there are multiple dog deaths. I am never able to handle dog death), but the writing is solid, the art is uncomfortably good, and the characters are shockingly thorough given how short a time is given to meeting them.

Basically, this book makes The Dark Knight look like Stellaluna. If that sounds like something you're interested in, definitely read it. If not, walk away slowly and don't make eye contact. This story is built to disturb.

There's a lot to love in this book, and a lot to question. The author, G. Willow Wilson, is a pretty interesting figure herself who has written a book that deviates greatly from most of the modern fantasy I've read. For starters, she's drawing from Middle Eastern mythology, about which my knowledge was admittedly limited to Disney's Aladdin. Most books that are set in the Middle East today are too embroiled in the real world for me to enjoy them. They get preachy or righteous or judgmental and I can't help but see the SERIOUS SUBJECT the author wants me to agree with him about. Wilson however wields the fantasy element as well as Octavia Butler to talk about serious subjects but with a guise over them that makes the stories more open, flexible, and (for me at least) palatable. She even references this directly with how dictatorial governments censor the hell out of libraries, but generally leave pieces like the Chronicles of Narnia on the shelf because they aren't seeing through the fantastical layers. It's a clever in-joke in a wonderful novel

Two other things really stood out for me in this novel. One is the tendency of major action points to happen off stage. Dina and the convert's flight to the Empty Quarter, Vikram's marriage and death, the release of the Marid basically all the elements that a Hollywood company would jump on to make this a Blockbuster smash, happen as asides in Alif's story. I kind of wanted to know more about Vikram and the convert, how their relationship began and everything that happens in the story, but that would have drastically changed the novel itself. Also, I have a feeling I would have got bored with the two of them if they were actually given center stage for two long. If Wilson stays in this world, the convert's story is the next one I want to hear though. The decision to do this is courageous and makes it hard to predict and unique.

The other is the power of language and particularly names. You don't tell jinn your name, you don't tell the internet your name, and you define yourself both by the name you are given and the name you choose. Online handles and metaphors are at the heart of this theme, and of the major characters very few get real names, and those that do hardly use them. The only exception to this are Intisar and Dina, women who are behind literal masks instead of figurative ones. The convert never getting a name strikes me as genius as I know when I was close to the only white girl in a Japanese town, I was known as “The American” or “The ALT.” The convert herself reminds me a lot of how I felt living in a foreign land, the frustrations I had and the mistakes I made. Even without having the experience of visiting the Middle East, I connected deeply with her story. Of the male characters, everyone is referred to by their mask (Alif, NeeQuarter, the Sheikh, the Hand, even Vikram's name is questionable) and the sense of true identity is reserved really just for Dina. It's an interesting perspective, and a theme I've always enjoyed, and even if Alif's given name is pretty obvious long before the reveal, there's a nice symmetry to its appearance.

Alif the Unseen has much more to offer. It's a perspective on the Arab Spring written before the Arab Spring. It delves into the language of code and the power of social media and hacktivists. It is apologetically honest about living in pre-Arab Spring society, and it maintains a sense of fairness and humor in all of its depictions. It's not like any book I've ever read before, but I hope it's not the last time I find a treasure like this.

This was an interesting read. It delves into the comic book panic of the early 1950s and the founding of the Comics Code which remained in effect long after the initial panic had passed. The story is similar to pretty much every time a new form of media captures the attention of youth culture, and the history reads very similar to the roots of rock and roll, television, and video games.

It is a well-researched book, and it does a good job of not making supermen of the key players in its story. It depicts many of the early comic creators (Eisner excepted) as men looking to make money with the new comic craze and not seeing anything particularly wrong with how they were doing it. These men were then supported by dozens of people who, for reasons of class, color, gender, or other gatekeepers, couldn't or didn't want to pursue art in other areas. The book doesn't defend comics as class literature, but openly admits that a lot of it was trashy pulp designed for a quick thrill. However it also demonstrates that reading a little trashy pulp does not undermine the morality of a nation. A little publicity, an upcoming election, and some sketchy individuals with Dr. in front of their names can do a lot of damage to common sense as evidenced by the lengthy list of artists who never worked again following the comic purge.

As an educator, censorship is always an issue in my life, whether it's deciding what books go in my classroom library or listening in more than a bit of shock as my students describe the latest horror movie to me. This book is a good reminder that blanket censorship is rarely an effective tool in guiding children and often does more to popularize the banned thing than to prevent it. Taste is always up to the individual, and much as it pains the adults watching over them, children need opportunities to develop their own. In the age where violent video games and rap music are the current easy targets for media and politicians looking to show concern for the morality of the nation, I think this book is an important read. Supervision is different from censorship, and our kids are often much savvier than we believe.

I'm an elementary school math teacher, and I picked this up hoping it would give me some good teaching ideas. It's definitely aimed at a higher level than my kiddos, but it's easy to read and made me feel like I could understand higher order math. That's not the same as I understand it, but Strogatz does a good job of simplifying big ideas for laypeople. It's funny, fast, and a good primer/reminder for those of us not using calculus in our daily life.

I had a good think about why I am enjoying this series so much. Part of it is the space opera/political intrigue which is entirely my cuppa. The other part I think has to do with the fact that while the characters at first seem a little simple without too much development of the course of fairly plot-heavy books, they can be divided into essentially two camps: characters motivated by doing good for others and characters motivated by doing good for themselves. The interesting thing is that this places people from both camps on the protagonist/antagonist teams. And that's a big edge towards keeping this series from being overly simple.

If you liked The Collapsing Empire, it's definitely work continuing, and I'll most likely finish the series up after a break for my book club.

The Expanse is probably my favorite modern Sci-Fi series. I fell in love with Leviathan Wakes, and it just hasn't stopped. Cibola Burn definitely does justice to the characters I've come to love, entrenching them in conflicts new and familiar alike. By far my favorite aspect is the relationship between Holden and “Miller” and I was extremely sad to see that it is more or less ended. The dialogue is, as usual, snappy and funny and absolutely will translate well into the tv series (Please be good to this one, Syfy... just... be good). The Peril quota is off the charts as the entire crew of the Rocinante and everyone they encounter utterly fails to catch a single break throughout the entire book.

I didn't like this book quite as much as Abaddon's Gate if only because these the human-generated peril situations that occur are so deeply frustrating. We sit there, like Holden, seeing what needs to be done and just getting knotted up in ego, bureaucracy, and neurotoxic slugs. It's a feeling I'm too familiar with in my daily life (except the neurotoxic slug part) and the idea that we are all wasting time trying to get through the day when bigger issues are looming uncomfortably close hits pretty close to home. Murtry's single minded obsession with his way or the highway stretches a bit further than I can personally conceive, but that doesn't mean it isn't a real possibility.

We get a slew of new viewpoint characters in this one and cameos by some old favorites. Of these, I found Elvi the hardest to read (probably the most traditional “girl” character the Corey team have ever done and thus a little hard for me to stomach) and Havelock's the most compelling. Havelock's perspective is the only reason I'm able to take any of the RCE's team actions as logical possibilities for this situation, and he provides a much needed justification for the “evil corporation.”

For fans of the Expanse, definitely lives up to its predecessors. For non-fans of the Expanse, please go read the Expanse. I'm excited to see it hinted that Bobbie is going to feature in the next book, and I'm cautiously hopeful about the Expanse tv series. I just wish we could pull the cast of Firefly to fill in the Rocinante's crew. Also, if anyone on Etsy is making Rocinante crew apparel, I'd like some please.

I think this is the happiest I have been to get a book through first-reads. I loved the first two books in this series, but I read them quite some time ago, and I was worried I wouldn't remember enough to really enjoy this one. However, Grossman does a nice job of bringing the reader back up to speed and reminding them of all the craziness that has ensued. It's a good thing he does because this book builds on everything that has gone before while remaining a unique story in its own right.

I think I like this the best of the trilogy because I can finally relate to Quentin. He gets a lot of flack as a character for being selfish, immature, and generally unlikable. That's all true of the first two books, but I don't think that's a reason to write them off. The Quentin Coldwater of The Magician and The Magician King is a college kid, and he acts like a college kid oozing youthful ennui. College kids can be idiots and even when they aren't, they have a lot of lessons yet to learn. I think that 22 was probably the stupidest age of my life, the age when I made my worst decisions and concocted my most ill-thought out plans. At 22, you are invincible and the sheltered environment of a university, even a magical university occasionally overrun by horrors from other dimensions, provides a barrier against the real world.

The Quentin Coldwater of the The Magician's Land is 30, and his increased self-awareness helps make him a very realistic portrait of the age. He looks back at his mistakes and owns them. He makes new mistakes and owns those too. He has stopped whining, recognized that perpetually hunting a Questing Beast is not a healthy way to live, and tries to make something out of life once he realizes he is literally no longer living in a fairy tale. Quentin has grown out of his own story, and he has to start a new one. He runs into old ghosts (again, sometimes literally) and is repeatedly reminded of who he was. For those people, he's still that idiotic college kid, but now Quentin is sure enough of himself to say, “Yes, I was that. I'm not anymore.”

So if you enjoyed the first two books but were iffy on Quentin, this one is still worth the read. The actual story is just as dramatic and even twistier than the first two with new characters, new threats to Fillory, and tons of snarky references. Old characters return, again many of whom have matured and changed into new characters. Getting Eliot and Janet's POV is refreshing and lends them a depth that is never granted in the earlier chapters. The dialog remains one of the best parts, and even though the prose is extremely colloquial, it never sounds juvenile or cheesy. The plot winds down a dozen different roads and tangents, never ending up quite where it you'd expect and remaining engrossing right to the end.

I also would be remiss if I failed to point out that from a feminist perspective, this book is gold. Why? Plum. Plum is introduced, assigned to the role of Quentin's apprentice, and proceeds to become an autonomous character who never has a romantic subplot with anyone! Yes, ladies and gentlemen, it is possible to have a female POV character with no romantic subplot. A weaker writer would have had her fall into an unrequited love triangle with Quentin and Alice but it never happens. Can I get a hallelujah? Also, it's a great name. Grossman really has fun picking out great names.

Grossman has produced a lovely trilogy here, one that I am happy to recommend to my thirtysomething friends as a book for us. It's a story of consequences, self-awareness, and life after fairy tales which our generation needs.

i had trouble connecting with this story from the start, and I think it's honestly just a case of too many references. The concept of women taking back early science fiction literature is a very appealing idea, and I think if Goss had chosen one of her characters, or even just Mary and Diana, I would have enjoyed it more. However, the epic cast from four monster novels plus Sherlock and Watson plus a bunch of Dracula references which only seem to be there to lead the readers in the sequel, left it feeling contrived. Additionally, none of the characters really feel like real people, all a little too perfect even in their flaws. It's especially hard to believe when it comes to Diana Hyde, who only seems to listen to her id when it comes to eating and precocious banter. i like references, but in the end this book was just fine. It never really pulled me in any emotional direction.

I'm a bit mixed on this one. I see it get a lot of criticism and a chosen one/Gary Stu book, and I don't think that criticism is terribly valid. Kvothe may be given a lot of advantages, but he is still fundamentally flawed in his inability to wait five minutes for anything, and he faces consequences for his regular acts of recklessness including physical, financial, and emotional damage. I look at how the guy treats his money and see all the bad habits poverty will do to a person. It's crazy accurate in money-psychology.

Rothfuss' world is interesting if a bit borrowed from Earthsea, and I like his diversity of characters even if they are a bit flat. Characters like Sovoy and Devi are more interesting to me in their breaking of stereotypes than the Auri's and Ambrose's, but nobody really disrupted my reading of the story. The description of Denna's lot in life and how much different it is than Kvothe's is a really memorable part too. The action is good and the writing is solid.

The real pain for me is that there is no central conflict in this novel. It is PART ONE in a way that drives me nuts. Even if you are going to use a book as a kickoff for a trilogy, there needs to be a central story to that first book, and there isn't one here. A lot of little stories that are resolved in fits and starts and then the book is over with a kind of “huh...” feeling. Not one plot thread is resolved at all. I think of Locke Lamora and I think of Fitz and the Fool and I just remember how good a first in the series can be on its own while still leading into further adventures. Obviously, the story continues, but I feel cheated out of 500 pages of right now.

Still, I will probably continue this series for one reason: Bast. This is the character I want to know the most about and am told the least about. That last chapter is enough to keep the series on my to read shelf even if this first one grated in a few places. We'll see how it goes from here.

This is some of the most impressive world building I've read in ages. Lee blends some of the best mafia tropes with a unique magic system and then drops it in the middle of a Hong Kong action film. Her characters are well-rounded, compelling, and faced with incredibly difficult choices. The plot twists and turns so you're never quite sure what's going to happen. There were definitely pages I had to re-read because I just couldn't believe what had happened. The amount of research poured into this is truly astonishing, and I'm very excited to continue the series.

I think this is a good book overall, but it's one I had a lot of trouble connecting with. I think if the main character was anyone other than Frenchie, this might have been easier for me to enjoy, but the fact is that I just don't like most teenagers, and first person POV from a teenager is always going to be a hard sell for me. I do really like reading Indigenous sci-fi, and the weaving and veneration of different Indigenous cultures throughout this book is a breath of fresh air, but yeah I just couldn't quite get into it. I think part of this is the narrow focus on Frenchie. The set-up where Indigenous people are being hunted because they hold the key to a society that has forgotten to dream feels more like a metaphor than a set-up. It's not hard to believe that western cultures will commit genocide for their own benefits, but God I hope we aren't so far gone as to murder children because we can't dream any more. Never seeing the world outside the Frenchie's found family means it was hard to understand what had actually happened to society. I feel like most of western crimes against POC's have been based in a hyperbolic need to protect something. We need to murder people, so we can dream again? The book never goes into what the consequences of not dreaming are, so I can't see why such horrors would be committed. I can assume there's some amount of propaganda involved, and admittedly I am judging this whilst sitting on my throne of white privilege, but yeah, it feels like a literary device in what's otherwise a very commercial read. Again, if Miig or Isaac or Minerva were the main character, someone who saw a little more of the world and had more rounded perspective, this all might have worked better for me, but my end review is more, “good book, but not for me.”

I first started reading this book back in 2003, taking turns with my then-boyfriend. He was the one who got me into the Evil Dead movies in which the line “Gimme some sugar, baby” has always been my favorite example of ludicrosity (I'm going with that word for now) in film. Also in 2003, said boyfriend and I broke up and he kept the book. I never got to finish it.

Now, more than a decade later, Bruce Campbell is coming to Denver Comic Con, and I remembered enjoying the hell out of this book. My cosplay conspirator, knowing my tragic tale, got me a copy, and I've been enjoying reliving the downright unbelievable antics within.

Bruce Campbell is a charming guy and the book is just as campy and candid as his B movies. It's very different from other actor biographies out there in that Bruce doesn't seem to have ever set out to be an Actor. He just liked making movies and got his hand into every part of the process. Thus, the book is not just about what it's like to act in everything from Evil Dead to Ellen, but about what it's like to do sound effects, to write your own dialogue, and of course to be covered in Karo syrup in a fly-infested climate.

It also details the downright diabolical relationship between Bruce and Sam Raimi, which I think could make a fantastic film in and of itself.

Bruce touches on some elements of his personal life (his wife, ex-wife, birth of children etc.) but the book is primarily about his professional one with a personal touch. I enjoy that this book never gets overly personal (actors are entitled to private lives too, yo), and that Bruce keeps the focus on his experiences crafting the movies and series his fans have come to love. If you're a Campbell fan, this is a must read. Even if you aren't, it's still a great look at Hollywood's B-side.

Now to see if I can work up the courage to ask him to sign it with a request for sugar...

Hard to review this book before I've had a chance to try out any of the strategies, but wish me luck on them in 2 months. Overall, I enjoyed learning the science behind the techniques, and the book came recommended by several awesome moms I know, so let's hope I change this rating to “5 stars, saved my life,” in December.

I was really not into the description of this book, but I'm very glad I read it any way. It looked to gritty for my taste, and indeed it is pretty bleak, but the world-building and magic system were interesting enough to keep me intrigued. The characters, with the exception of Gabriel and Max, are maybe a bit pat and we don't get into a lot of the reasoning behind their out of control proficiency in their skills, but it doesn't matter quite as much given the literal magic in the air.

I'm not sure if I loved it quite enough to bump other books off my to-read list in order to finish the series, but it was a pretty exciting romp through alternate Los Angeles. If you like your fantasy heavy on the the thriller, I'd give this series a shot.

The series continues to excel. I love the themes of age and maturity that Vaughn and company are playing with. I never quite know where the story is going next and I can't wait to find out.

This book came with a YA label, which admittedly biases me against it slightly, but I will say I enjoyed it a lot more than I usually do YA. The setting is extremely unique and there's a great steampunk vibe without actually being steampunk. The characters live in towers made of living bone that grow with the city. They fly on manufactured wings to get from place to place, living under the traditions of a central Spire controlled by the mysterious Singers. The city is terrorized by monsters called Skymouths, tentacled horrors, invisible until their maws open way too close to you. I feel like the story would do very well as a Ran Murata style anime.

As a novel, it's quick and not terribly challenging. The characters are good or bad, the plot unfolds about as you would expect it, and our hero follows the typical journey. The beauty is all in the setting and culture Wilde creates, but not enough in the storytelling for it to be one of my favorites. It was a fun deviation from my usual comfort zone, though, and one I'd recommend to people who enjoy the YA structure.

Huh...
This is a difficult book to review. It's a difficult book to read, jumping between genres as quickly as the characters jump between planets and times. I do a lot of my reading in the little waiting spots of life, during commercial breaks or in restaurants. I couldn't really do that with this book as it required all of my attention to keep pace with what was going on and even giving it all my attention didn't guarantee I was going to understand anything.

The book is billed as a modern take on sci-fi classics where the whole solar system is habitable and mankind sprawls across it the way we so often do when we find some extra room and consequences be damned. It's also about movies, set in a future where Edison hung on to talking film patents thus never really graduating us from silent films and the style they embodied. There's a found girl lost and a lost boy found. There's murder, drugs, and all that jazz. More than anything, I feel like it's about Story and humans' persistance in writing ourselves in as the stars without fully understanding the plot.

At first, I felt the tropes were gimmicky and hard to follow, but as I kept reading, I found myself enjoying it more, trying to put the pieces together. There's a Rashamon element of hearing the same story again and again, not just from a different perspective but through a different lens (see what I did there?). Valente really understands what it's like to be on camera, and she casts her story with characters who are always on camera, even in their most unguarded moments, always posing, always quipping, always trying to make something that is both real and right.

I'd recommend the book if you like mysteries, David Lynch films, and golden age sci-fi. Also if you have time on your hands to sit and devote to the story.

You can find my review of this as part of my review for the eBook Elric collection for [b:Elric of Melniboné 30036 Elric of Melniboné (The Elric Saga, #1) Michael Moorcock https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1388345555l/30036.SY75.jpg 388812]

Charlie Jane Anderson makes me angry because she writes stories that should be hackneyed and stupid but turn out delightfully absurd. Genie Theatre Critic? Should be dumb. Is my favorite short story in a long time. Bio-engineered family seeking to inherit dad's body parts? Should be ridiculous. Is refreshingly complex and touching.

Also, we find out what happened to Patricia's cat, and the story made me need to hug my cat for much longer than he prefers.

I first read this book in college, and I'm really glad that book club gave me a chance to re-read it as a more developed person. At nineteen, this was an interesting book but very new to me. At 35 having been a working woman in a society that has real trouble dealing with non-gender conformity and “aliens”, the relevancy and intelligence of this book is just so much more striking. Passages like how differently society works when anyone can be struck by pregnancy any given kemmer are a bit saddening when I look back into my own world. I think this is a book that everyone should read and if you read it as young as I did, you should probably read it again. It just gets better.

This really hit the sweet spot that is literary fantasy/magical realism for me. The prose is lush and dense, the scope is epic, and also undying spirit crow. Crows are neat. Highly recommended especially to fans of Watership Down.

I'm pretty sad that I didn't like this book more. I love Kevin Hearne and I love comedic fantasy, but this one fell flat. The concept was exciting, but it didn't work for me. The jokes are pretty lowbrow and repetitive and I just didn't laugh. In another setting, I probably could've gotten behind the characters, but the tone just didn't allow me to take character development seriously. I think it needed more heart and less poop to really match up with Pratchett, Adams, and other genre masters.

This book took time to read in the best way. It is heart-breaking, brutal, fascinating, and real. Rivers Solomon explores themes of race, gender, religion, and power through the magnified lens of a generation ship. Their main character, Aster, is a brilliant doctor who struggles with understanding others and forming relationships, but the relationships she does make are powerful enough to carry her through her dangerous quest through her mother's notes.

The blurb on the back compares the ship to the antebellum south, but that seems a shortcut to saying black people in this book are slaves. The system is more complicated and a whole different variety of horrific because this is an organized future and thus also heavily influenced by the present. This isn't a dissection of the past but an exploration of where the present could lead us if we forget to treat our fellow people like people. It's hard to read, but I'm glad I did.

This book was a solid three stars. It's a fantasy adventure with lone heroes battling it out against demons and some interesting characters and a fun magic system. My biggest criticism was that the book is called “The Warded Man” and is actually the Warded Man's origin story starting from when he is a child. The title basically explained his entire arch which takes like 350 pages to complete. Also, Peter V. Brett doesn't understand how periods work.

That was all forgivable until the last quarter of the book though when Leesha is violently raped multiple times then two days later throws herself at Arlen and getting super upset when he refuses to continue having sex with her after they are attacked by a demon. God, just typing that sentence upsets me all over again. WOMEN WHO ARE VIOLENTLY RAPED DO NOT WANT TO HAVE SEX WITH STRANGE MEN TWO DAYS LATER! Like I'll forgive writers not really understanding how menstrual cycles work, but this just ruined anything I liked about the book. I really couldn't recommend this book to anyone at this point. It was kind of forgettable fantasy that then just turned gross.

Sir Terry, I miss you. I've had this book on the shelf for a while now, and this seemed the appropriate time to read it. The writing style is more Baxter than Pratchett, but Pratchett's signature satire is definitely evident especially in all scenes with Lobsang. Is Lobsang a history monk who stepped over from Discworld? I'm assuming so.

The concept of The Long Earth is a really neat one: what would humanity do if scarcity was no longer an issue, and what would Earth do if humans were no longer an issue? These dual questions make this book part sci if adventure and part philosophical treatise. There are a few points I took a bit of issue with (a family abandoning their son forever just to be at the forefront of the new adventure still doesn't sit right without knowing much more about that family) and the ending basically breathes into the sequel rather than containing a single novel, but overall it's a fascinating take on the parallel worlds trope with healthy doses of science and humor. I'll definitely be picking up the next one.