Nik
I'm reading Palahniuk's novels in the order they were published. The first thing I noticed about Survivor is that the writing style is exactly like Fight Club's, as it this part of my notes: staccato sentences, mired in small details, repetitive. The story made the style work in Fight Club, not so much in Survivor. I thought it started out pretty well, but about three quarters of the way into the book, I kind of lost interest. I expected to be somewhat disappointed by the time I finished reading, and sadly, my expectations were met.
Collection of Marple shorts. I don't much care for short stories, nor for the practice of using a thin plot to string together short stories (i.e., we're sitting around after dinner and telling each other stories; here they are). And although I thought the stories themselves were okay, I kept falling asleep whilst reading them.
Impressive debut novel. I like the bits of the book that comprised dialogue or a glimpse of characters' lives and thoughts. But there were other bits that just kind of went on and on about things in a very expositional way. On and on and on. And on.
2.5 stars.
My first #lesfic! Rebecca perfectly and succinctly explains exactly what I didn't like about this book. But either because I'm from Bollywood-land where instalove is the standard or because I'm generally just a sucker for love stories, I mostly liked the story despite all those things. (“Those things” in a nutshell: cliché characters and plot, instalove, weird writing with inconsistent use of contractions and two POVs—in itself okay, but one written in first-person present tense.) I figure there's gotta be something to a story that has me reading it in a single sitting, right? =)
Really strong start, in the first third of the book, with some truly lovely prose and a very sweet story. The second third and most of the third third are a different story (snort):
- A character that started out melting my heart turned into someone whose motivations and logic I couldn't understand—at all—and for whom I very quickly lost sympathy.
- Waters does this thing where she enjoys using alternate definitions of words common in the queer lexicon. It's quite clever and amusing, but the words are overused and the ploy gets a bit tiresome. In the first part of the book, we see this happen with “queer”; later, we see it with “gay.”
- I really can't wrap my head around the choices Nan made and how she ended up being this selfish, manipulative, hateful, petty little twit. I'm still so flummoxed that I had to note it twice.
At the end, we are offered a bit of redemption, some tying up of loose ends, and a tentative assurance of happily ever after. Because I'm not actually very difficult to please, this is enough for the story to earn back a star. Other stars awarded for several brilliant turns of phrase, pleasantly surprising historical accuracy, and ultimately an admirable first novel.
If you're wondering why a 1-star review is the top review, it's because it's pretty much spot-on. But—and I can't speak here for the other reviewers—the high rating is because I couldn't help myself: I really enjoyed the story despite its shortcomings.
Yes, the descriptive prose was often lazy. The same adjectives were sometimes used within sentences of each other when a synonym would've been better.
Yes, there are certain things that are repeated ad nauseam. He is massive in every way and has high Scandinavian cheekbones. She freckled is freckled petite freckled and freckled.
Yes, I was hoping for a lot more of the paranormal stuff and the mystery stuff and the focus was much more on the romance.
Buuuuuut. But.
I don't know a whole lot about romance novels, but I was expecting a lot of fluff. I got a lot more depth than I expected. There's social commentary here that bubbled to the surface of my consciousness whilst reading and that wasn't at all preachy. I think the historical realism and accuracy are a bit selective, and that's fine—I would have been happy to have the envelope pushed even further.
The main and supporting characters are mostly wonderful. The women are self-sufficient, strong, independent, resourceful, and commanding of respect. There's agency and there's sex positivity. There's honest introspection and self-awareness in characters, wherein they question their beliefs and biases; they listen, reflect, grow, and adapt.
I liked the pace at which Aida and Winter's relationship developed. I don't particularly have anything against instalove, but I get tired of it being used in romances. Here the relationship gets more intimate very naturally, and there's a lot of sweetness and hesitation and doubt. And dopey grins. I love the dopey grins.
A quick, enjoyable read. I liked the writing and most of the humour, but I liked the supporting cast more than the main characters and I'm not sure how big a role they'll play in the rest of the series. Worth finding out, I reckon.
So nice to see Bridget has matured a bit and is able to string together a sentence. I miss Shazzer.
Loved seeing things from yet another perspective, but didn't love the altogether too frequent assertion that sometimes being friends with Auggie is just. So. Haaaaard. 🙄
Very much enjoyed reading Julian's perspective, but I was hoping doing so would engender some sympathy for the character. Nooooope. That said, I'm super glad I got to meet Julian's grandmother, who's awesome.
I think I liked the mini-series better than the book. The book really, needs, an, editor.
This series sure went downhill quickly. There's a long way to go, so I hope it gets better. Not much I liked, in this volume, except Kirkman's willingness to kill his characters; but I find fault with even that, as I disagree with his choice of characters to kill, and how soon to kill them. I rolled my eyes at the dialogue, which often sounds juvenile or unnatural; the artwork wasn't as good as at the beginning; and I'm starting to cheer for the zombies. The haphazardly bolded text is causing me to read The Walking Dead as if I were that O.o teacher from Daria...Mr. DeMartino, was it? That and the appalling spelling mistakes are doing my head in.
But I'll stick with it, because I'm stubborn.
A wonderful volume, possibly the best so far. I love that Jen and the gang echoed my frustration with Rosie and her camp secrets: they yelled at her for me and we're finally starting to get some real answers. There's also some conflict and resolution in interpersonal relationships that's a little bit more emotionally mature in this volume, and it's honestly kind of wonderful to experience it with the characters. Little chaos munky remains my favourite.
It's hard to pinpoint why this story is so much greater than the sum of its parts. There's nothing really remarkable about any of its bits. Maybe it's the timeline: the characters aren't much older than I and a lot of the references—music, TV shows, and the like—feel familiar. Maybe it's the themes of friendship and chosen family, to which most of us can probably relate to some extent. Whatever the reason, the most important mark of a good book is its unputdownability and, in that regard, Firefly Lane earns top marks: I stayed up all night and read it straight through (I foresee a nap in my future if I'm to make it through work today).
Welp! I skimmed a few of the 1- and 2-star reviews, surprised there are so many. Not a lot, but enough to know that I'm something of an odd duck to think that this is perhaps better than Firefly Lane. Fly Away is not a shiny happy story. It's gut-wrenching, but it feels ... real. In the aftermath of a loved one's passing, we feel in excruciating detail and depth just how much the departed soul meant to the people in her life. One by one, we see them fall apart without her and fail each other in the process. The narrative jumps around quite a bit, both in time and perspective, but it works. There is heartbreak after heartbreak, but there is also healing, there is also redemption. And in the end, there is love. Always.