Tera

Grace Burrowes provided many of my comfort reads in 2020 (particularly her “Rogues to Riches” series, and I thought I'd continue that in 2021. I read this book as part of a trilogy packaging Burrowes's “Christmas Ladies,” which included two other Windham books. I had not previously read any of the Windham books, and didn't realize the three here were part of a series until well into the second book; to that end, I will be reading the rest of the Windham books.

But more on this book in particular: to me, it felt heavier than it was. If you are a creatively frustrated woman with a meddling family, it's hard to dismiss Genevieve's concerns (or, for that matter, Elijah's). The pair are both tortured by past actions, and both take extremes in order to correct those actions, or at least, to accept their just deserts.

In light of how I responded to the conflict, I was disappointed at how easily everything was solved. Surprise! Their parents have been hiding important information! Additionally, the characterization here is light: having read Jenny's story so closely behind her sisters Sophie and Louisa, the three are nigh indistinguishable. Swap out poetry for art. (Also, I haven't read about any of her brothers, and I can't tell them apart.) We are told about Elijah's goal, but we don't see what drives him, beyond a desire to prove his father wrong.

If you don't take Genevieve's frustrations too seriously, this was a satisfying, light romance. I enjoyed Elijah's obvious appreciation for Genevieve's talents, as well as the bickering between the two.

I enjoyed the three, initially separate stories: Jin and his feelings about being Chinese-American and surrounded by white people; Danny, a blonde high school student who is content to be just like the other kids but whose social life is upended every year by his cousin Chin-Kee; and the Monkey King, whose struggle for acceptance from the other gods leads him to a greater purpose.

The stories intertwine in a way that I personally enjoyed. I had a lot of fun picking out western influences in a story that is heavily inspired by eastern ones. I was uncomfortable with the depictions of Chin-Kee, but that's the point of that character (if you can call an amalgam of negative and positive stereotypes a character).

The text reads a bit flat at some points. But it is a graphic novel, and the images are there to do some of the heavy lifting.

This is a great, middle grade/middle school graphic novel about identity.

The book felt more shallow than the film. We gain insight into a few of the perspective characters (particularly Saw Gerrera and Cassian Andor) and the leadership of the Rebel Alliance, but others remain cyphers. The writing is pretty solid, nevertheless. I suppose it's a reflection of my thirst for anything set in this universe at this particular juncture in time, but I would read further novels set here (not even necessarily about the Rogue One team).
Still gave me the feels, though.

Other reviewers have rightfully pointed out that the book's viewpoint is rather limited, but I've found it to be a useful teaching tool. I use it to introduce reading literature to my 9th-10th grade students, who tend to be very conservative, concrete thinkers. As an introduction, it's invaluable. (I only mention the conservatism because, having read both this and the “adult” version, the chief differences seem to be an accessibility of language, and an omission of the chapters on sex and violence.)

Very engaging! I haven't performed any of the “experiments” Duhigg suggests, but he makes the practice of adjusting one's habits seem simple (if not easy).

Not his best. I'm assuming this is one of Hiaasen's earlier books, because it only hints at several of his trademarks: the dark humor, the grotesque characters, the twisty plots.

Gora acknowledges up front that she's a fan of Hughes, and the entire 80s teen genre. With that in mind, her starstruck writing shows it. The interviews are great, but David Blum (who coined the nickname “the brat pack”) is villainized pretty heavily. A chapter on “Say Anything” is included, but it feels almost tangential.

Very compelling. Larson weaves together two main plots very well; the subplots, less so. Still, he creates the impression of Chicago 1893 as a time of turbulence, both positive and negative.

I loved it. Hatmaker makes conscious decisions about her and her family's lifestyle, taking the reader on a seven- (ten?) month journey where they fast from a different aspect each month. The items she chooses to question are so mundane, their consumption so daily and seemingly integral, that each new month is a revelation. As someone who does question my own consumption, how it affects my faith and the way that faith is lived and how it directly affects those who share this planet with me? This book is sticky.

Here's the thing: read it in 9th grade honors English class, don't remember being terribly impressed with it. I'm not a Hemingway fan. However, I taught it to my summer school students, and while they echoed the thoughts f 14-year-old me, I was surprised to find a better book than I thought I would in the book, if not a literary masterpiece. The allegory gets a little heavy-handed at the end. I don't anticipate having to re-read it again (or doing so willingly).

Valuable reading for writers. I have to admit, I'm not a Hemingway fan (and by no means a Hemingway scholar), but I found his portraits of life in Paris interesting, and wistful. He only refers to his own approach to work in passing, but I would have appreciated a more in-depth explanation of his writing philosophy.

Also, the F. Scott stuff is bizarre.

Fascinating account of the rise and fall of the St. Louis Busch family. As a local, it's interesting to see how one family dominated and shaped the city for nearly a century.
The book is accessible, juicy in tone, even when discussing the drier minutiae of the beer business. The only nit I would pick is that it is hard to slog through all of the different Augusts and Adolphuses (Adolphi?), but that is hardly the fault of the author.

I almost didn't read this book. It sat on my nook, untouched, for several months, a giant albatross of a book. I had spoiled myself, you see, in anticipation of something I had heard about called “the Red Wedding.”

You see, GRRM hit a sweet spot in these books, conflating my loves of period pieces (did you know that these books were inspired by the War of the Roses?! Dear Reader, I Did Not!) and epic medieval fantasy. And that Red Wedding, inspired by an actual event, led to the worst spoiling ever. It almost made me not pick up the book again.

The book takes about four fifths of its time telling backstory. One of my complaints earlier in the book is that instead of resolving anything (and by that I mean, questions that have been sitting there, festering, for TWO OTHER BIG THICK BRICKS of book), the book just continues to unwind, spreading its characters thinner and thinner, and meanwhile my anxiety over my beloved Jon Stark grows, and I wonder where the heck Nymeria is, and will my precious Starks ever meet again??? But.

But.

When GRRM does start answering those questions, he does it with a vengeance. I'd read it again, tension, Red Wedding and all, just to read the glorious, revelatory ending again. I come out of the book, excited about the next one (and I promise not to spoil myself this time).

One quibble: a particular character is credited with a previous mystery. To me, this resolution feels tacked on. I give this character no credit for having any particularly deep inner life, let alone the motivations attributed to him here.

Some of these reviews are spot-on in complaining that there's not enough Anne- and that's true. Those who enjoyed the exploits of Anne the girl (Anne of Green Gables and Anne of Avonlea, that is) should enjoy the stories of Anne's children, because they tend to take after their mother in exploits.

There are some moments when I found this book outright heartbreaking- Jem's story of unrequited puppy love stands out for me here. The few glimpses we do get of Anne speak to me more as an adult than when I was younger- Anne struggling with an overbearing, unwelcome houseguest, Anne experiencing marital difficulties. These kinds of problems are real, and it's gratifying that Anne felt them, as well. In short, I think this book is underrated.

A great beach read. The series is definitely winding down; this book's greatest achievement seems to be whetting the audience's appetite for the final book, allowing Sookie to take a well-deserved rest and settle down with the supernatural of her choice.

Did I enjoy the book? I can't honestly say; I found it worrisome, more than anything else. I worried about the characters (others might complain about Eddard Stark, but I love a good, honorable man), I worried about the misogyny (which others have written about more eloquently in their reviews than I am able, at this time, but apparently you can't have a “Game of Thrones” review without mentioning the misogyny- and the sex; don't forget the sex), but I mostly worried about how in the world Martin was going to wrap it all up into one cohesive story, in a stand-alone book.

That was my main problem. I feel like every book in every series should stand on its own; this one did not. Rather than reading it like the epic fantasy/courtly intrigue novel it is, I always felt like it was a mystery: one where the audience can see most of the twists literally HUNDREDS of pages before the characters, but a mystery nonetheless. As such, it feels unresolved. I'm a little bitter about the thousands more pages I'm going to have to read, in order to find a resolution, when the first book offers very few satisfying moments of its own.

I love Sarah Vowell's take on history- her writing is bright, witty, and has a way of making history seem real and relevant without ever being irreverent. In fact, Vowell's respect for the people and places she writes about seeps out of every page. She even seems to have a soft spot for the missionaries in “Unfamiliar Fishes,” those precursors to the land- and sea-hungry Americans who would go on to depose Hawaii's traditional constitutional monarchy.

Vowell takes the modern history of Hawaii (and it's hard to believe that her narrative spans less than 250 years) and connects it to current events, 19th century U.S. politics, her own personal experiences, and even, in a deeply Hawaiian way, to the beginning of time.

I'd already read the first two-thirds of this book before finally getting into it. Before this point, I found it to be nigh well incomprehensible. I don't know what finally clicked for me, but when it does pick up, it does so with gusto, finally capturing my interest and saving it from...well, the short list of books I hate.

Probably not a re-read, though.

Terrifically engaging story of the true murder trials in Jazz-Age Chicago, which led to the creation of the stage play (and subsequent movies/musical) “Chicago.”In [b:The Girls of Murder City: Fame, Lust, and the Beautiful Killers who Inspired Chicago 7783324 The Girls of Murder City Fame, Lust, and the Beautiful Killers who Inspired Chicago Douglas Perry http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1277431024s/7783324.jpg 10711853], author Douglas Perry writes of author Maurine Watkins, a young writer who comes to Chicago for some experience, is hired as an uncertain crime reporter for the Chicago Tribune, and lands smack dab in the reportage of the sensationalized murder trials of Beulah Annan and Belva Gaertner.I loved reading the book; I honestly had no idea of its direct connection to the musical when I picked it up (or even that the musical was based on true events), but was pleasantly surprised by the style of writing. Perry honors Watkins' own writing with this book.

Terrifying.

I read this book, and taught it to my remedial English summer school class. It's a very real book, reflecting not only the modern American enlisted man's mindset; I say modern because, despite being set forty years ago, you can walk onto any army post, any camp, and hear exactly these same thoughts espoused, in roughly the same language. I do plan on reading Myers' companion piece, Sunrise Over Fallujah, and I expect roughly the same: a coming-of-age story, mixed with life-and-death struggles, that says something true about the nature of a war that is fought by youth.