Crystallinegirl

I picked this up on a whim; the cover and synopsis made it sound like yet another maiden-befriends-a-dragon standard fantasy novel, with her family in the balance. I was wrong. I'd never heard of the author, but apparently she has been writing historical fiction since the 60s, and she took that wealth of experience and added a dragon to make this gothic tale of a family fighting to keep their sovereignty against an encroaching empire.

I actually wish the dragon had featured in the story more than he did; I want to know more about his history and why he was so intrigued by Tirza. Why they could understand each other when no one else could. I'm disappointed that was never explained.

The mysteries of the castle were never really explained, either, though one of the stories Tirza tells the dragon hints at it. Castle Ocean seems to be alive, in some ways, refusing to be altered from its original construction by slowly reverting any changes and luring invaders down dark hallways they will never find their way out of again. The gothic atmosphere of the novel was fascinating.

It definitely absorbed my attention for several hours. I'd give it a 3/5, I think. Not incredibly outstanding, but well done and a little hypnotic.

You can find all my reviews at Goddess in the Stacks.

WOW where do I start with this one?! Quintessence is a fantastical tale, set in an alternate Victorian Age England. In this reality, the world really IS flat, and the sun and stars are a half dome over the earth, meaning they're much closer to the earth at the edges of the world. Our main characters are Dr. Parris and his daughter Catherine, part of an expedition to an island on the edge of the world, populated by fantastical creatures, where lines of magical “quintessence” power strange abilities.

This book was fantastic. I keep using that word - but it's the perfect word for this book! There's -just- enough romance to give it that happy-ever-after feeling at the end, but the romance was by no means integral to the plot. Walton wove together magical creatures, political intrigue, colonization issues, philosophy, and troubles with the natives into one coherent, magical tale. I LOVED it. I see on his Amazon page that there's a sequel - Quintessence Sky - but I'm not sure I want to spoil the perfection that is the first book by taking the chance on the second!

I picked this book up largely because of the gorgeous cover art, but it does not disappoint. If you like steampunk, you should read this book.

You can find all my reviews at Goddess in the Stacks.

Backyard Harvest is set up by months, which makes for a unique and absolutely essential (to me, a beginner) book. In every month, it tells you what you should be eating (provided you had planted it previously!), what you should be planting, what you should be pruning or transplanting or otherwise working on, and usually a few pages on a seasonal-appropriate subject. (A section on apples and apple trees in November, for example.) The layout is gorgeous, the instructions are easy to understand, and I feel like after a few years of following this book I'll be eating from my garden every month of the year with ease.

For January, for example, if I had these things planted, harvested, or stored from last year, I should be eating pickles, stored root veggies, newly lifted Salsify, forced Belgian Endive, and winter radishes, among other tasty-looking things. I should be sowing (indoors, to transplant after the last frost) early-season leeks, summer onions, lettuce, broad beans, cut-and-come-again greens, and early peas and radishes. For tending, I should be amending my soil, keeping an eye on my stored fruits and veggies for signs of rot, pruning some of my fruit trees, and picking up fallen leaves from hardy winter brassicas so they don't cause rot at the base of the plants. The feature for the month is building a seedbed, both raised and non. In January I should be harvesting celeriac, early broccoli, the aforementioned Belgian Endive, and spring greens. Another feature for the month is sprouting seeds for use in salads. Each of these categories gets its own two-page spread, the monthly features occasionally getting four or more.

It's a lovely, really useful book, and one I HAD to own after getting it from the library. It will be getting heavy use in the coming months, I'm sure!

Whittingham has written or co-written three other books – Vegetable Gardening and Grow Vegetables before this book, and Simple Steps to Success: Fruit and Vegetables in Pots after. The latter appears to be a combination of the first two in a new format, but I could be wrong. So I'm not sure I'd recommend any of those three – I haven't read them – but Backyard Harvest is awesome!

You can find all my reviews at Goddess in the Stacks.

This book is FANTASTIC. It's the closest thing to a feminist, egalitarian romance I've seen in quite some time, and the romance subplot is expertly woven into the main treasure hunt plot. With it all set against the steampunk backdrop of a time-travel-altered Europe, this is a spectacularly fun read.

The book is set in 1887, 31 years after the “Peace Rebels” traveled back in time from 1969. They came back to warn the world of the dangers of technology - they had stories of Hiroshima, and the Holocaust, and the horrors visited on the human race by nuclear bombs and tear gas and pollution and other terrible things. Their travel had a consequence, though - they apparently came from another dimension. They're still human, but when “Mods” have children with “Vics” (Moderns vs Victorians), their children then get labeled “Freaks.” Freaks have kaleidoscope eyes - they're said to look like time travel, or what the Mods saw when they traveled back to 1887. And Freaks all have some sort of ability - the main Freak in the book is a healer. Others can read minds, or control weather. The danger of this is that no Freak is older than 31 years old; no one knows what they're truly capable of, not even themselves.

Mods came back in time to warn of the dangers of technology, but at the same time, some of them couldn't resist re-inventing some of the things they'd left behind. And spreading their knowledge. So the setting is Victorian Europe (Britain, mostly) but with varying amounts of steam power, electric power, gas power - dirigibles and air-cycles and the rumors of a lost time-machine.

Among all of this lies the Darcy family. The Darcys have a family connection to the man that built the first time machine, and as such are somewhat rejected from society, since a lot of people are not very happy with the sudden technology and blame them for bringing it upon them. Baron Darcy is an eccentric inventor who can never focus on one thing long enough to see it through. His three children, Amelia (the heroine of this book) and her twin brothers, Simon and Jules, are all equally brilliant, but it's Amelia that's taken after her father the most. She dreams of captaining her own airship someday. When Baron Darcy dies and leaves the family destitute, their only hope to regain the family fortune (and respect from their countrymen) is a contest for Queen Victoria's Golden Jubilee. They each receive a personal invitation to join the hunt for “lost or legendary technological inventions of historical significance.” (Future books follow Simon and Jules' adventures in this quest, and I WILL be looking for those!)

Amelia's quest leads her to run into Tucker Gentry, a notorious ex-Air Marshal from America. Convicted of a crime he didn't commit and sentenced to hang, his crew rescued him and ran to Europe. Amelia and Tucker immediately strike sparks on each other and soon fall in love. And their love story is one of the best I've read recently. It's repeatedly noted that it's her mind and personality that drives Tucker wild - her aptitude with aeronautics, her sass, her ability to do things for herself. It's also repeatedly demonstrated that she CAN, indeed, take care of herself. She rebuilds her air-cycle on his ship - or almost does, until one of his crew members takes over and adds a bunch of new stuff to it as thanks for saving his life. When she's abducted he finds her having dinner with her captor, bargaining for her own release. She's the one that leads them to the treasure, putting together the clues and finding the secret cave. It's that self-sufficient streak that really captures Tucker's heart: “By marrying you, I'm gaining the wife of my dreams, a woman who'll share the wheel with me, soar the skies, experience adventures.”

Looking back on it, there were a few times where Tucker soared to her rescue, but I never noticed it while I was reading. They were equals throughout the entire book, and that's not something you see often in a book with a strong romantic sub-plot. Even in the sex scenes, of which there are two or three, she takes an equal, demanding role. I was extremely impressed, and I cannot WAIT to read more about “The Glorious Victorious Darcys,” as the series is called. This is one hell of a book, and if you like steampunk and don't mind a romantic sub-plot, you should DEFINITELY pick this up.

Nightshifted in most ways is your typical urban fantasy book. It's got the hidden supernatural world that most mortals don't know about, with one mortal drawn in who must flounder her way around among vampires, shapeshifters, weres, zombies, and more. This one has a bit of an interesting twist to it, however. In most urban fantasy books, there's some sort of hidden hospital, usually with a supernatural that was a doctor before they were turned to whatever flavor of supernatural they now are. In Nightshifted, that hidden hospital is Y4. Y4 is the bottom, hidden level of County Hospital. Here regular, mortal nurses take care of supernatural patients. One of those nurses is Edie Spence. She was offered the job by a mysterious, shadowy man, that told her if she took it, they'd make sure her junkie brother got clean, and stayed clean. Now she has a name badge that glows when something funky is going on, patients that sometimes require a tranq rifle, and a whole heap of troubles.

In Nightshifted, the first in the series, Edie accidentally leaves one arm of a patient unrestrained. In his delirium, he yanks out a vital tube and dies. The last thing he'd told her was “Save Anna.” Not knowing whether she's under a Compulsion or doing it of her own free will, Edie sets out to find the mysterious Anna. She does eventually find her and kills one of the vampires holding her before they escape. The vampires decide she's going to pay for that, and haul her in to a trial to decide her guilt and sentence. But Anna is more than she seems, and bringing Edie to trial may be more trouble than it's worth...

The next book in the series is Moonshifted, followed by Shapeshifted, and, in December, Deadshifted. Due to the unique viewpoint of these books, I'll definitely be looking for them.

I just finished reading Looking for Alaska, making it the fifth John Green book I've read, after Will Grayson, Will Grayson, Let It Snow, The Fault In Our Stars, and An Abundance of Katherines. I enjoyed Looking for Alaska immensely, just like I did the other three. (My favorite being Let It Snow, which he wrote with two other authors as a set of three related short stories.) I haven't made a habit out of reading young adult fiction, but for John Green I'll definitely make an exception. I should also pick up some of Maureen Johnson's books; her contribution to Let It Snow was excellent.

I have a confession to make before I go any further: I am a Nerdfighter. I was introduced to John and Hank Green about two years ago by one of my best friends, by way of Crash Course. Since then I've (almost!) caught up on their Vlogbrother videos, watched most of the Crash Course videos (sorry Hank, I'm just not into chemistry) and started watching Sci Show. John and Hank are both extremely educated, well spoken, and yet extremely entertaining and fun to watch. Watching the vlogbrothers episodes where John talks about writing the books (as he's writing them!) is what finally made me go pick up his books to read. And he's GOOD.

In Looking for Alaska, Miles Halter goes away to boarding school at Culver Creek, his father's alma mater. He's in search of his “great perhaps,” his meaning for life. (The phrase comes from Francois Rabelais' last words “I go to seek a Great Perhaps.” Miles doesn't want to wait until he dies to go in search of his.) Culver Creek really marks a turning point in Miles' life - from a friendless outcast in his old school to one of the closest friends of Alaska Young. Alaska is a bit of a bad girl (sneaking cigarettes and alcohol into school constantly and pulling ingenious pranks) but also an enigma. The entire school body loves her, but even to her closest friends she doesn't reveal much about herself.

The book is divided into “before” and “after” and it wasn't until within a few pages till the end of the “before” section that I realized what the event was. “After” deals with the characters of the book coming to terms with their life-altering event.

In The Fault In Our Stars, John Green dealt with the lead up to a life-altering event that the characters knew was coming - a long, drawn-out sort of grief. Looking For Alaska deals with the fallout of an event no one knew was coming, and while the emotions are just as deep, they feel sharper somehow for being so unexpected.

I definitely recommend this book, and all of John Green's books. He's a very talented writer, and isn't afraid to put “adult” themes into his “young adult” books. As if sex and alcohol and death and deep meaning-of-life questions aren't things every teenager deals with? I like that he doesn't pull his emotional punches. His books may be “young adult” but they're not fluffy or “easy to read.” Easy in terms of grammar and flow perhaps, but not in content. I teared up reading parts of Looking For Alaska, and outright sobbed for a good portion of The Fault In Our Stars. (Which is now being made into a movie!)

You can find all my reviews at Goddess in the Stacks.

I picked up Hellbent for one sentence on the back cover. “Her Seattle home is already overrun by a band of misfits, including Ian Stott, a blind vampire, and Adrian deJesus, an ex-Navy SEAL/drag queen.” I mean, doesn't that sound like fun to you? Hellbent is actually the second book in a series about Raylene Pendle, a vampire thief; Bloodshot being the first. I've not read Bloodshot, but I didn't need to to follow the action in Hellbent.

Raylene is contracted to recover a box of bacula - penis bones. (Snicker.) Not just any penis bones, but penis bones of various supernatural species. Lycanthropes, Basilisk, Sasquatch, to name a few. Supernatural bacula have a lot of magical punch, and will sell for a few million dollars apiece in Raylene's world. Along the way to recovering the bacula, Raylene also has to keep her blind vampire friend from getting dusted by his old House, and solve the mystery of his sire's murder.

It's a fun read, and Raylene is a sarcastic, intelligent protagonist. There's an undercurrent of romance between Raylene and Ian, AND Raylene and Adrian, but it's never overt or a main part of the plot. From a drag show to penis jokes to outrunning a tornado, Raylene the vampire thief sails through her problems, collecting stray people to her as she does so. I admit I would have liked to see more ass-kicking; there was only one real action scene in the book, and it was very short. I was also a little surprised at how quickly an enemy turned into a friend, that seemed a little sudden. Overall, a fun, light-hearted vampire romp that doesn't get bogged down by too much romance or politicking.

First Grave on the right and this book are the first two books in Darynda Jones' Charley Davidson series. There are five so far, the next three being Third Grave Dead Ahead (2012), Fourth Grave Beneath My Feet (2012), and Fifth Grave Past the Light (2013). I'll check and see if the library has the other three. If so, I might pick them up, but I'm not too concerned.

Charley Davidson is a reaper. Well, she's “the” Reaper. There's only one at a time. (“And to each generation, a slayer is born...” well, not quite like that, heh.) As the Reaper, she sees dead people, can talk to them, and can touch them. They can pass through her into the beyond - what she realizes at some point is, actually, heaven. She appears like a bright light to ghosts all over the place, so they usually show up at her door, or out in the street, or in her bathroom, looking to pass to the great beyond. She has a few other minor powers, like understanding every language, to help her with this task.

The books largely revolve around her solving murders (her father and uncle are both with the Albuquerque Police Department and often ask her help, since being able to ask the deceased “so hey, who killed you?” is actually quite helpful.)

There are complications, as there always are. Charley's comes in the form of Reyes Alexander Farrow. Reyes is a smoking hot convict (who may or may not be guilty of killing his own father) but who is DEFINITELY more than he seems.

The books are decent, for fluffy paranormal romance. My main beef with them comes from two glaring editorial errors. The police station is almost certainly not a “melting potty.” I'm pretty sure the author meant “melting pot,” unless they were going with some really weird imagery! That error could be chalked up to a typo, but the one that actually made me yell at the book was the quote heading up Chapter Two of Second Grave on the Left:

“Don't cross the streams. Never cross the streams.” - Bumper Sticker. 

...bumper Sticker? BUMPER STICKER?! That's from Ghostbusters! Misattributing a rather famous quote (it is rather famous, right? It's not just because I'm a geek?) is a cardinal sin in my book.

So I'm not sure how to feel about these books. My strongest emotion is the indignation at not properly attributing the Ghostbusters quote. Other than that, the story flows well, and fast (I read both books in one afternoon). The characters are interesting and the concept is interesting. The sex is pretty hot, and I like that Charley is portrayed as promiscuous but without slut-shaming her for being so. (Though for her always saying she likes sex, and talking about guys and SAYING she's promiscuous, we only ever see her have sex with one dude in the first two books.)

I think my final verdict is they're worth reading if you're looking for something fluffy, but I wouldn't go out of my way to pick them up.

You can find all my reviews at Goddess in the Stacks.

I spent my entire day at the Maryland Renaissance Festival yesterday. (And man, do my feet hurt!) But it was an absolute blast; we watched the three sirens of “Sirena” sing some haunting melodies (and “steal” my husband's soul and eat it as part of their act!), watched a couple of hilarious comedy shows (Fight School slayed me) and watched the final round of jousting. Did you know jousting is Maryland's official sport? How cool is that?

On the way to the fair I finished The Hangman's Daughter. The Hangman's Daughter was originally written in German by Oliver Pötzsch, but my version was translated to English by Lee Chadeayne. I didn't realize until I read the “About the Author” followed by “About the Translator” that it wasn't written originally in English! It flowed exceptionally well. The story revolves around the mysterious deaths of three children, the midwife the town wants to pin it on, and a mystery surrounding the sabotage of the leper house being built just outside the walls of the town. The Hangman is actually one of the most sympathetic characters in the story, which I found unique. Usually the executioner/torturer is painted as evil. Along with his daughter and the town doctor's son, an accomplished doctor himself, they attempt to solve the mystery of who's killing children before the town can convict and sentence the midwife.

I REALLY enjoyed this book, and I will probably try to track down other English translations of this author's work. I don't read too many mysteries (though I do have a few more in the queue at the moment) but this book really swept me up and carried me along for the ride. It's set in 17th century Bavaria, 70 years after the last witch craze. Jakob Kuisl is the town's Hangman, and, as it turns out, one of the author's ancestors! The author apparently wrote the novel as a way of connecting with his roots; he is descended from the Kuisls, who were Hangmen for generations.

You can find all my reviews at Goddess in the Stacks.

So first off, can we talk about this cover? I want this chair so bad. Though the purple chair the author actually sits in to read is nowhere near this pretty, from her description of it. I haven't got a good reading chair yet; I have one corner of a couch, next to a bookshelf, that is my current favored reading spot (reading lamp, blanket, and end table included). But eventually I will find myself the perfect reading chair and make myself a nook.

That aside. The premise of this book is the author trying to come to terms with the death of her older sister, who she idolized. Her sister died of cancer, so they knew it was happening, but it was still a shock when she passed. For a few years, Nina pushes her grief aside and throws herself into being busy, but she eventually decides to full process she's going to dedicate a year to reading a book every single day. She reasons that at her reading speed, she can reasonably finish a 300 page-ish book each day, giving herself time before her sons get up, while they're at school, and after everyone else goes to bed.

I saw one reviewer mention Nina's unrecognized privilege, and it's true. Nina is very privileged. She can afford not to work, and not to worry too much about chores, cooking, and the general running of a home. Her sons and husband all seem fairly self-sufficient, and her husband's job keeps them quite well, it seems. (I don't even want to think about how much the Christmas tree she describes actually cost, considering it reaches the chandelier hanging from the second-floor ceiling.)

But the book is about the books she reads, not how privileged she is. And in that respect I quite liked it. Her criteria for picking books are that she can't have read them before, though they can be authors she's read before, no author could be read more than once, and she had to review every book she read. There's a list in the back of the book of every book she read during the year. I've only read three of the books she read in that year: Neil Gaiman's Stardust, Cornelia Funke's Inkheart, and Octavia Butler's Kindred. All fantasy, of course, and none of which she actually mentioned in the text of the book! (I've also read Bram Stoker's Dracula, which she mentions in the beginning of the book, but wasn't part of her year of reading.)

I love the way she talks about the books she reads. She relates them to her life, or her father's memories of World War II. She draws lessons from the stories, and does, in time, begin to heal from her sister's death. The way she talks about reading, and her books, really struck a chord with me, and I think I'm going to buy myself a copy of this book. I want to refer back to it when I'm feeling uninspired with my reviews, and this might be a book I re-read often to encourage me to dive deeper into my books.

This is my pick for PopSugar's 2018 prompt “favorite color in the title” and I think it's also going on my personal Best of 2018 list. I just loved it that much. It's not a “I have to tell everyone about this and encourage everyone to read it!” kind of book. It's more a “this really touched on a deep passion of mine and has words I'll carry with me going forward” kind of book. It was just lovely.

You can find all my reviews at Goddess in the Stacks.

Another spooky story for October! On first glance, this one is very similar to Rin Chupeco's The Girl From The Well, but the plot is actually quite different. It's still human boy, murderous ghost girl, but here the girl is bound to her house and forced to murder whoever comes inside. Unraveling the WHY is a major part of the plot.

I'd say this one is actually less creepy than The Girl From The Well, though one of the evil things Cas encounters is VERY creepy. Both of these were just about the right amount of spooky for me. I'm actually REALLY disappointed that the sequel is proving very difficult to get my hands on! I had to request it through Marina, my statewide lending program, so I'm not sure when it will arrive. But I NEEEEEEED to know what happens to Cas and Anna after this book ends!

I think I liked the relationship between boy and ghost better in Girl From The Well; you could clearly see the draw for the ghost, and the connection between them. Not so much here; Cas is trying to kill Anna, but then they become fascinated with each other for...some reason? Anna isn't compelled to kill Cas, and that's never explained, and seems to be her main source of fascination with the boy.

Another major difference is that while Tark in Girl From The Well is rather isolationist and creeps out his peers, Cas seems to attract his peers, and quickly finds friends wherever he goes. He's typically used them as contacts in the past, not really valuing them as friends, but that changes with the events of this book, as he actually comes to know a couple of the kids at his new school and value their friendship. He even puts up with their jokes about being Ghostbusters and who would be which character, which is kind of hilarious.

Both stories are great; I'd say this one is slightly more light-hearted than Girl From The Well, but only slightly. There's still lots of creepy ghosts, life-or-death situations, gory deaths of side characters, and curses. It's another great spooky October book for scaredy-cats like me!

You can find all my reviews and more at Goddess in the Stacks.

This book and Second Grave on the Left are the first two books in Darynda Jones' Charley Davidson series. There are five so far, the next three being Third Grave Dead Ahead (2012), Fourth Grave Beneath My Feet (2012), and Fifth Grave Past the Light (2013). I'll check and see if the library has the other three. If so, I might pick them up, but I'm not too concerned.

Charley Davidson is a reaper. Well, she's “the” Reaper. There's only one at a time. (“And to each generation, a slayer is born...” well, not quite like that, heh.) As the Reaper, she sees dead people, can talk to them, and can touch them. They can pass through her into the beyond - what she realizes at some point is, actually, heaven. She appears like a bright light to ghosts all over the place, so they usually show up at her door, or out in the street, or in her bathroom, looking to pass to the great beyond. She has a few other minor powers, like understanding every language, to help her with this task.

The books largely revolve around her solving murders (her father and uncle are both with the Albuquerque Police Department and often ask her help, since being able to ask the deceased “so hey, who killed you?” is actually quite helpful.)

There are complications, as there always are. Charley's comes in the form of Reyes Alexander Farrow. Reyes is a smoking hot convict (who may or may not be guilty of killing his own father) but who is DEFINITELY more than he seems.

The books are decent, for fluffy paranormal romance. My main beef with them comes from two glaring editorial errors. The police station is almost certainly not a “melting potty.” I'm pretty sure the author meant “melting pot,” unless they were going with some really weird imagery! That error could be chalked up to a typo, but the one that actually made me yell at the book was the quote heading up Chapter Two of Second Grave on the Left:

“Don't cross the streams. Never cross the streams.” - Bumper Sticker. 

...bumper Sticker? BUMPER STICKER?! That's from Ghostbusters! Misattributing a rather famous quote (it is rather famous, right? It's not just because I'm a geek?) is a cardinal sin in my book.

So I'm not sure how to feel about these books. My strongest emotion is the indignation at not properly attributing the Ghostbusters quote. Other than that, the story flows well, and fast (I read both books in one afternoon). The characters are interesting and the concept is interesting. The sex is pretty hot, and I like that Charley is portrayed as promiscuous but without slut-shaming her for being so. (Though for her always saying she likes sex, and talking about guys and SAYING she's promiscuous, we only ever see her have sex with one dude in the first two books.)

I think my final verdict is they're worth reading if you're looking for something fluffy, but I wouldn't go out of my way to pick them up.

You can find all my reviews at Goddess in the Stacks.

You know, sometimes you just need some escapist fantasy. McKinley's lyrical prose was just the ticket for me last night. There were a few times where I thought “I'd like to know what happens next, quit with the digression already” but then I got caught up in the digression itself! I've read several of McKinley's books - The Hero and the Crown, Pegasus, a few others. She is a master of her craft, weaving magical tales that make you really SEE the world of the book.

Lissar/Deerskin survives some intense trauma in the beginning of this tale - it was hard to read, but McKinley hit the middle ground of being just graphic enough to really impress the horror of the assault on you, without being overly graphic. I think it could definitely be triggering, though, so be warned. Lissar survives, and escapes, and spends time healing before going among people again and learning to heal emotionally as well as physically.

The book is predictable - I knew where she was going and who she'd fall in love with from the moment she left home - but no less absorbing for that. I did like that for once, an author dealt with trauma recovery in a realistic manner, instead of just “oh well she loves him so the trauma won't bother her anymore!” because PTSD doesn't work that way.

Deerskin is another enchanting tale from McKinley, with parts that are genuinely hard to read. I wish the description had been more blatant that when Lissar is fleeing “her father's lust” they really meant his assault, not just his desire.

You can find all my reviews at Goddess in the Stacks.

Today, June 20, is World Refugee Day. First observed in 2001, it is dedicated to raising awareness of the plight of refugees all across the world. African Refugee Day had been observed in some countries prior to the UN declaring it World Refugee Day, but the Organization of African Unity agreed to have the two days coincide.

To honor World Refugee Day, today I'm going to talk about Little Bee. Little Bee is a Nigerian refugee in the United Kingdom. She and her sister witnessed the destruction of their village by an oil company's thugs, and were hunted down to eliminate the witnesses. In a chance encounter on a Nigerian beach, she met Sarah and Andrew, a couple from London trying to save their marriage by going on an exotic holiday. The encounter changes the lives of all three of them, and when Little Bee makes it to the United Kingdom, they are the only people she knows. She arrives at their home on the day of Andrew's funeral, and Sarah takes her in.

The book switches between the viewpoints of Sarah and Little Bee, and it does suffer from that, a bit. I couldn't wait for Sarah's chapters to be done so I could get back to Little Bee. Her viewpoint - her voice - was enthralling. Some first-person views are just the person thinking to themselves, while some first-person views are the person talking to the reader. Sarah was the first type, and Little Bee the second. Reading her explanations of the differences between her old life and her new life, and how the girls from her village wouldn't understand things, was amazing. I was hooked within the first ten pages of the book, specifically her note about scars:

I ask you right here please to agree with me that a scar is never ugly. That is what the scar makers want us to think. But you and I, we must make an agreement to defy them. We must see all scars as beauty. Okay? This will be our secret. Because take it from me, a scar does not form on the dying. A scar means, I survived.

The events Little Bee talks about having witnessed are horrifying. And she recognizes that. She could be bitter, she could be depressed, she could be insane, but she is not. She manages to have hope, and even joy. She sees other refugees around her commit suicide, and in fact always has a plan for how to kill herself “if the men come.” Because the stories of refugees always begin with “the men came and they...” and she'd rather kill herself than let herself be taken. Despite this, she has hope for a future. Or perhaps she simply takes joy in the present.

The book is not a happy one. Like Sing, Unburied, Sing, it's an important book but not exactly an enjoyable one. There are enjoyable parts. But there are very hard parts, too. (I should note, here, a TRIGGER WARNING for a graphic description of rape, when Little Bee tells Sarah what happened to Little Bee's older sister.) It did not end the way I wanted it to, though it ended in an unexpected way. I suppose it was too much to hope for a Happy Ever After when the vast majority of refugees don't get one.

For all that there were very tough scenes to get through in this book, I'm still putting it on my Best of 2018 list. Little Bee's voice and viewpoint is amazing, the story is well researched, and the plot absorbing. This is a book I'd like to have on my shelf.

You can find all my reviews at Goddess in the Stacks.

I've enjoyed every Brandon Sanderson book I've read, and Elantris was certainly no exception. This was a beautiful mix of religious and political intrigue, magical mystery, and just a touch of romance. The ultimate answer to the mystery was so elegantly simple, but discovered so late, that consequences still had to be faced even when the main problem was fixed. (I'm trying to be vague so I don't spoil it!) I loved both Raoden and Sarene, and in a way, Hrathen too. He was a wonderfully written villain – one of those villains whose motivations you get to see and understand, so you end up sympathizing with him even as you don't want to see him succeed. Sanderson definitely has a talent for unusual fantasy novels, with elaborate plots and complex, well thought-out worlds.

In short, yet another amazing book from Brandon Sanderson.

You can find all my reviews at Goddess in the Stacks.

This is one of those books that I could only read a chapter, sometimes two, at a time. It was really interesting, with lots of GORGEOUS pictures of libraries, but it's still a history and sometimes boring. It was very in-depth, though, starting with “The Ancient Libraries” and moving through the middle ages, to the Renaissance, to the early modern period, to the 21st century. Murray talked about all the books lost to religions, primarily Christianity, suppressing other religions' ideas and burning their books and records, and also mentioned in many places the casualties of war – bombed, burned-out libraries, priceless ancient books being lost to fire and looters. The latter was preferable, as that usually meant the book would resurface somewhere!

I was a little disappointed that he didn't talk more about the development of cataloguing systems, and barely mentioned the Dewey Decimal System at all. I thought that was really odd, considering it's the most-used cataloguing system today! He talked about the difficulty of maintaining a catalogue, but didn't discuss a lot about how that changed in the modern age.

If you're interested in libraries, I would definitely recommend this book. As histories go, it wasn't nearly as dry as some I've read, and the pictures were fabulous.

I'm not really sure where to start with this book. It's in that category of “classics that everyone should read” and having finally read it, I agree. It's really, really, really good. It's a hard read at times - it takes you right into the antebellum south and the heart of slavery. It's actually set in Maryland, which is a little jarring for me - in today's political climate, Maryland isn't really considered part of “the south” - it's far more liberal than most of the south. A blue state, where those are all red. But it WAS a slave state. It is below the Mason-Dixon line, and reading the wiki, slavery was actually legal here longer than it was in the south. (Mostly because the Emancipation Proclamation only covered the Confederate States, not the slave-holding Union states of Delaware, Kentucky, Missouri, and Maryland. That's screwed up. You can't have slaves, but it's totally cool that the people that fought for us still keep them?)

So Kindred is set mostly in pre-Civil War Maryland, with a few scenes in modern-day California. The mystery of how Dana time-travels is never explained - but it doesn't really need to be. That's not the point of the story. The point of the story is a modern-day black woman transplanted to the antebellum south and learning to understand slavery in a very intimate manner. Dana mentions a couple of times how easy it is to forget that she has another life - that's she's a free black woman from the future - because the way they keep slaves in line doesn't give you time to think past the present. You work too hard to think of the future, and if you don't, all you can think about is the pain from your punishment for not working hard enough.

The book is a very visceral portrayal of a somewhat pampered slave's life - she's not a field hand, her masters are what passes for “kind.” Dana's fellow slaves live in fear of being sold down south to Mississippi - they know Maryland is better. As hard as some of the scenes are to read, the book explicitly says it could be harder.

The conflict Dana feels between rescuing her white, slave-owning ancestor again and again, and standing back and letting nature take its course (but dooming herself) is one of the central points of the book. It's a moral quandary that she never really answers.

Ultimately, there's no way to do this book justice in a review. I think it should be required high school reading. More than that, I think it should be required reading for white people. And if you haven't read it yet, you should. I knew on an intellectual level what slaves went through - but this book doesn't look at it from a distance. It doesn't divorce the reader from the violence. It puts the reader right there in the dirt of the yard with the whip exploding across Dana's back.

I think it took me so long to get around to this book because it IS a classic. And so many classics I was forced to read in school were boring and dry and hard to read. I'm starting to find that some are classics because they're just that good. Good and necessary and written about critically important topics. Kindred is one of them.

You can find all my reviews at Goddess in the Stacks.

This book has one of the best forewords I've ever seen. Bornstein explains that since 1994, when the book was first published, language has changed a lot, and terms that were used regularly then, like transsexual, are highly offensive now. So she has heavily rewritten the book to change the language, but she goes on to say that language is an always-changing thing, and in five or six years this edition, too, might be offensive in the language used. Then she apologizes for that. My favorite lines are one of the last paragraphs of the foreword:

Now, if anything you read in this book makes you feel bad or wrong or small and weak, then please know that I said something wrong. This book was written many years ago, and the culture I wrote it in is not the culture in which you're reading it. So, if you find anything to be personally insulting, please accept my apology and keep reading with the knowledge that your identity and how you express your gender are correct only when you feel they are correct.

It was a wonderful note to start the book on. I just loved “if you are offended, if this invalidates your identity, then I AM WRONG.” Bornstein transitioned in the 80s, and has been an outspoken advocate of queer and trans people most of her life. She is definitely a figure in queer history that more people should read about.

The rest of the book is every bit as good as the foreword. Bornstein absolutely destroys the concept of gender in this book, dissecting it and looking at all the parts and pieces to attempt to figure out why society is so set on the binary system. She more than makes her case that gender is a spectrum, not an either/or. And not just a spectrum between “more male” and “more female” but a colorful kaleidoscope of gender expression and identity. She does not shy away from sensitive topics like surgeries and anatomy. She talks to the reader like she's your favorite outrageous aunt, sitting in the family room gossiping over heavily-spiked tea.

The formatting was occasionally confusing; she has the usual justified text, but then she has left-aligned passages (usually quotes from other people) and right-aligned passages (side-bar like content; I'm unclear if these are notes she made on the original text or what, but it generally clarifies or alters what the main text is talking about.)

I would HIGHLY recommend this book for anyone who wants to learn more about gender issues. Bornstein has an incredibly entertaining way of writing, and she loves to challenge what we think of as gender.

You can find all my reviews and more at Goddess in the Stacks.

So in trying to read more inclusively, I had been looking at some prominent minority writers like Junot Diaz or Sherman Alexie (I actually had one of Alexie's books out from the library when I realized where I'd heard his name). When the news broke about Junot Diaz, and I remembered that Sherman Alexie also had sexual harassment accusations against him, I decided instead of reading their books, I'd look up the books of the women calling them out! The Dirty Girls Social Club is the first book of what I'm calling my “Wronged Women” list. Alisa Valdes-Rodriguez wrote an article titled “I tried to warn you about Junot Diaz” about her experience with him. Others on the list include Erika Wurth, Elissa Washuta, Zinzi Clemmons, Carmen Maria Machado, and Monica Byrne. I've built a shelf on Goodreads for my list, and I'm sure more names will wind up on it. (Unfortunately.)

The Dirty Girls Social Club is the story of six college friends who decide to meet every six months for the rest of their lives, no matter what. The book covers one six month period, from one meeting to the next. It took me a few chapters to sort out who was who, and throughout the book I occasionally had to flip back to the first chapter, where Lauren gives a rundown of names and professions. All six are Hispanic of some flavor, whether that's Dominican, Puerto Rican, Colombian, Spanish, or Southwestern Native American. That's why they banded together in college. Each one has her own storyline - dealing with an abusive marriage, leaving a loveless marriage, being forcibly outed as a lesbian and learning to adjust to her new visibility, or becoming a rock star. I enjoyed how each of the six had a very individual story; they have interesting jobs and complicated love lives and unique problems.

Each of the women reflects on her Hispanic heritage in some form, whether that's taking lessons in how to love from their parents, or fighting for recognition for their minority, or writing columns about their lives for the local newspaper. The book both shows and tells us about the differences in various Hispanic cultures.

I especially enjoyed Amber/Cuicatl (the rock star) and Elizabeth (the lesbian). The rest of the book was a little slow going at times, but I think that's largely because I'm not a fan of contemporary fiction. I did enjoy it, though, and I'll probably check out more of the author's books.

You can find all my reviews at Goddess in the Stacks.

I try to make a habit of picking up books written by people on the autism spectrum - it's part of my effort to read inclusively, but it also has a personal component, since my husband is on the spectrum. (You can see my list of books on this subject here.) Look Me In The Eye is a book about growing up in the 70s, when an autism diagnosis usually meant a kid entirely incapable of most communication - they didn't really understand the spectrum yet. John Elder Robison was not that child, so he didn't discover his diagnosis until his 40s. Autistic adults discovering the reason for their quirks is a very common story, though these days it's more often women who fall through the cracks than men.

It's always amusing to me spotting the similarities between autistic memoirs and my husband - one of them came very early in the book, when Robison is talking about a book shown to him by his father.

“We looked at books together, especially the Boy Scout Woodsman manual. I can still remember the pictures that showed how to make a trap, and the correct way to step over a fallen log.
I dreamed about trapping wolves and bears, but garter snakes and frogs were as close as I got. And I've never forgotten the woodsman's log-crossing techniques that I learned at five.”

This is the sequel to Royals, which I reviewed a little while back. At the time, I wasn't terribly enthused by Princess Flora, and that actually stuck through this book. I do, however, really like Millie. And I LOVE Rachel Hawkins. This woman writes sweet, fluffy romances that you know will have a happy ending, and makes them a joy to read. To see that approach with LGBT representation - lesbian and bisexual, in this specific case - is fantastic. Give us more! Hawkins still has several characters she could write stories about in this world, including the most eligible bachelor, Prince Sebastian. (Flora's brother.) She could also write a prequel about the other Prince, since the first book was the romance between the Prince Alex's fiancée's sister and one of Sebastian's best friends. Prince Alex and his fiancée were already a thing when the series opened. Daisy and Miles, the couple from the first book, do make an appearance in this one as well, as do Seb and the rest of the “Royal Wreckers.” (His posse of noble scoundrels.)

I liked that Millie explicitly likes both “lads and lasses, in the general sense” in the book; it's not just implied. Far too often we're just left to wonder, when a character dated or was married to one gender, but is shown loving a different gender, whether it's because they discovered the new gender is their actual preference, or because they are bi/pan. Plenty of homosexuals were married to an opposite-gender partner before coming out. So it's really nice to see explicitly bisexual rep!

I may have liked the side characters more than I liked Princess Flora. Lady Sakshi Worthington, especially, was great, and I may have been cheering more for her romance than for Millie and Flora!

My dislike of Flora aside, I really enjoyed this book. It was a quick, fun read, and Hawkins had better get working on the next story. I NEED Seb's book!

You can find all my reviews and more at Goddess in the Stacks.

This is yet another Pride and Prejudice retelling, as evidenced by the title. It seems to be a popular thing to do of late, but they've all been very good, so I'm not complaining! This one, more than the others, really deconstructed the story and put it all back together in a unique way.

Probably the biggest change here is that while Darcy is still a man with a younger sister and no other family, the roles of the two families have been switched. Darcy is the poor one, and Trisha (Lizzie Bennett) is the rich one. Wickham still plays the villain, though in a slightly different manner, and Darcy is not the friend of Trisha/Lizzie's elder sister's beau. (Though the elder sister does still have romantic problems!)

I really liked the swapped roles; it made for a radically different plotline than the story it's based on. What I did not like is the lack of sparks between DJ/Darcy and Trisha. They butted heads like they should, but unlike the original and most of the retellings, I didn't feel the underlying sexual tension. Trisha seemed more enamored of DJ's cooking than of DJ, and I don't know what DJ saw in Trisha at ALL.

The author also kept pulling me out of my immersion in the story with her repeated use of “XXXX” was what I WANTED to say, but of course I didn't say it, instead I simply replied “YYYY.” Just - over and over, with multiple characters. I appreciate you're trying to show us what they're thinking vs. what they're saying, but change it up.

I did enjoy the book overall; I love seeing other cultures take on this trope, from the Pakistani Unmarriageable to the Brooklyn African-American Pride, to this mix of Indian-American and British-Indian. I think Unmarriageable was my favorite of these three, but it really was excellent.

So this was good, but not outstanding.

You can find all my reviews and more at Goddess in the Stacks.

I had been looking forward to this book for several months, and it arrived just in time for Pride, and it DID NOT DISAPPOINT. It is very much an adult romance, complete with sex scenes. They are not the focus of the story, but they're definitely not skimped on, either!

Red, White, and Royal Blue takes the bisexual son of the (female!) US President and pits him against the closeted (at order of his grandmother) gay youngest prince of England. After they make a scene at an international event (oh, enemies-to-lovers trope, how I love thee!) the two boys are ordered to make nice, and make it look like their scene was just friendly rough-housing that got out of hand. As typical for enemies-to-lovers, once they're forced to spend time together, they each start to realize the other isn't all that bad.

I loved so much about this book. I loved Alex and Henry. I loved the side characters. I loved the formatting when the author includes email and text chains between characters. I loved that the boys start quoting real historical queer letters to each other.

I mean, with sentences like “Henry lets Alex take him apart with painstaking patience and precision, moans the name of God so many times that the room feels consecrated.” How do you NOT fall in love with this book? Just - wow.

I could totally see the author writing stories for the rest of “The Trio” - the president and vice president's kids/grandkids (Alex's sister, June, and their best friend, Nora.) But this book stands just fine completely on its own.

This book ranks right up there with The Priory of the Orange Tree, and that's one of my new all-time favorites. So yeah. Absolutely fantastic romance.

You can find all my reviews and more at Goddess in the Stacks.

This book was alright. There was a lot of hype around it before it released and I...don't really agree. I liked both characters. I enjoyed the plot. Okay, I enjoyed the entire book, except. Except. Rachel BLINDLY hates beautiful people. Which is ridiculous, given (at least on the cover) she's far from ugly herself. I just don't get her blind hatred of beautiful people. She's spent the last three years hating Sana because, what? Sana had the guts to ask her out while being pretty? That plot point just kept pulling me out of the story. Which was otherwise really good! But two pretty girls on the cover and one of them hates pretty people but has no self-awareness that she is ALSO pretty? I don't recall the text actually saying whether Rachel is pretty or not, but Sana obviously thinks so.

This might be an issue with whoever designed the cover not understanding the plot of the book; I know authors don't always have full control over their covers. But it REALLY made that particular plot point confusing.

This book is also another example of the cover description being misleading. Rachel doesn't “realize” that Sana is perfect for the role and try to cast her; her supervisor informs her that Sana will be in that role and she'll just have to make it work. It's a bit of a different dynamic.

Sooooo I don't know whether to recommend the book or not. It was good, but I was annoyed by that plot point. Rachel and Sana were the only developed characters; everyone else was only there to further their story. Which is not always a bad thing; but I generally like the supporting cast to be a little bit more developed. They are people too, they shouldn't solely exist to drive the romance between the two main characters.

As a lesbian romance, this was great. As a well-rounded book, not so much.

You can find all my reviews and more at Goddess in the Stacks.

First we need to address this cover. It's a great cover, but I hate it. I hate having it in my house, on my coffee table, glaring up at people in the room. It's creepy. It's perfect for this book, but I will be very glad to give the book back to the library and have that cover out of my house!

That said. It was interesting comparing this book to Fire and Fury, which I read at the beginning of the year. Woodward is a very respected journalist, and you can tell how much he tries to remain objective and simply report the things that happened. Fire and Fury definitely had a slant to it. Fear doesn't have a slant, but it still comes off as negative. Which says something about the entire administration when trying to be objective still results in the president shown as a “fcking moron,” (Tillerson's words) or a “fcking liar.” (John Dowd's words.)

The thing that really struck me about this book was learning how much Trump wanted to pull completely out of South Korea. Even when he was told we could detect a North Korean missile launch in 7 seconds from South Korea, as opposed to 15 MINUTES from Alaska, (out of a 45-minute missile flight!) he still didn't see that as a good enough reason to stay in South Korea. (You know, treaties and allies aside.) His ignorance and stubbornness is mind-boggling.

It took me three or four days to get through this book, which is much slower than my normal single-day read time. The subject matter is just that weighty, though Woodward's writing style is fantastic. This is the first Woodward book I've actually read, but I want to look up his backlist now, because he's really good at not putting me to sleep!

One other difference from Fire and Fury - there were things in the book I didn't know. (And I pay attention to the news.) There wasn't really anything in Fire and Fury that was surprising to me. Fear did have new information.

It's a frightening, weighty book, so don't read it if you're not prepared for that. But it's good.

You can find all my reviews at Goddess in the Stacks.