N. Mahurin

Counterfeiters, masked vigilantes, a beautiful farm, and the true noir-drama of the 50s. Another good one, and another quick and satiating read.

Like a lot of books of this nature, I gleaned a lot of good, whole nourishment from about the first five to six chapters or so. And then, that's when it should've ended. Sometimes, Biblical studies / books tend to go on for a bit longer than they need to, something I've seen across the board. If you're new in your faith journey, this is definitely a good way to be reminded that the living water will be that which quenches your thirst. It's also something that you can only say so many times, in so many different ways.

As my first Atwood novel ever pored through, I think this is an excellent choice for those wishing for an introduction to her. The prose was engaging, the timeline expansive, and the protagonist one of those that you can't help to sort of identify with, whether it's in entire spans of happenstance or just a line here or two that sheds light on the situation.

The one complaint I have is that, at first, I was a bit bewildered as to the setup of the novel. That is to say, it took me a little bit of time to grow accustomed to the fact that it happens in both flashbacks and present-day circumstances, both of which are intermingled with one another and aren't labelled with dates or other such markers. However, once one becomes more used to that factor of the setup, then it becomes a much more enjoyable read.

Overall, it's encouraged me to pick up another one of Atwood's novels in the future, which I consider to be a good sign.

A quick-paced, plot-tight read of indigenous fantasy, of which there needs to be much more of. But at the same time — it was almost too quick-paced, and too plot-tight.

The points I enjoyed:
— The character voice of Serapio. The gentleness combined with the “doomed to be a monstrosity and what is that, truly?” question was wonderful to read, whether in flashback or in present day.
— The way each chapter was woven together. It truly was an air-tight plot. It flowed seamlessly one point into the next. Everything did have a purpose, however strong or weak that purpose was in the actual narrative.
— The world. Reading about a pre-colonial world that wasn't “we're stuck in a period piece” was a breath of fresh air. You could smell and taste the rich traditions. There was no shying away from what others might deem as “harsh” or “backwards” or “grotesque.” (Leaving out details to avoid spoilers.)
— The ending. I was relieved it didn't end the way I thought it would — or rather, the way that we were led to believe that we were doomed to read, so to speak.

The points that missed for me:
— The other character voices. Although I enjoyed all of them as concepts, what they could do, and how their arcs sustained them — their voices weren't unique enough for me to grasp. If I didn't have dialogue tags every sentence, I would have no idea who was speaking because after a while, they all blended together and sounded the same. Naranpa and Xiala mirrored each other in their voices (frustrated, coming from rough backgrounds, had enough and taking action) — and Okoa was not there long enough for me to connect to, and was overshadowed by Serapio until the end. Serapio was the strongest for me.
— The air-tight plot. It read quickly. I've seen some perspectives indicating that the beginning was slow and painstaking — but I didn't find that to be the case. I found it to be the right pace; and then, the rest of it after they were established, characterisation was cast aside for the sake of the plot moving quickly. There were times where I wished the writing had lingered. On the environment, on the action outside of the POV, on the characters' emotions, just lingering in general. I felt like I would just get comfortable sitting in someone's POV, and then, we would switch or something else would happen. I felt a bit like I was underwater without a lot of air to breathe in.
— The world. Because I could taste its richness, I wanted to taste more. I got a clear picture, again, in the beginning and sometimes in the middle — but otherwise, I found the descriptions to err on the side of blandness. I'm not sure if there was a lot cut to meet word-count or page-count, but I think it was cut to a fault, if that's the case. This could have benefitted from being a fantasy of truly epic proportions — The Wheel of Time length, LOTR length. Let us have flesh.
— The writing style. Not in the sense that Ms. Roanhorse has a weak voice; she has a strong one and a commanding one. However, despite this being marketed as adult ... it read as YA to me.

It was good, and I will read the sequels in the series to come. But it left me a bit on the “...damn” side instead of the “wow!” side.

This is my third attempt reading it, and only on this attempt did I actually understand the setting and what the characters were meant to be, in relation to it. I'm pleased that I managed to finish it this time. For the most part, it was an all-right read. For me, a pro of this one in comparison to something like Wizard of Earthsea, is that there's more description about the world, including a codex and notes and what have you, and that McCaffrey's writing flows a bit better. Things keep moving, and you're actually in a lot of the action. A con for me, a major drawback, was that it wasn't clear enough? I don't know if it's that there wasn't enough detail or I just wasn't paying attention, but it was a jerky start getting into the world. Both of the main characters also suffered from a severe arrogance trip, and it could've afforded more backstory to make them more likeable. However, I will also be continuing this series, and seeing what changes as it goes along.

Steinbeck's introspective writing and innate skill at character studies are the sole reason I'm giving a star rating at all. As a novel, and as a Steinbeck novel, this hit the mark for me.

I can admit at least half of the reason is because: I wasn't willing to sit with a narrator who was ( and especially at first ) a narrow-minded, middle-aged white man. It reminded me a bit too much of a rhetoric I would prefer to avoid. Is it a real family I've met? It absolutely is, I have met this kind of family ( husband, wife, two kids, working class ) in real life, you can indeed go to your local small town and hear almost the exact same things said at any point. And I knew that this would be what the novel focused upon when picking it up.

The other half of the reason is that ... even if I wanted to relate to the narrator, it was written in such a way that I couldn't. Real life slices in novels can be the most interesting things depending on the manner in which they're written. And although this won the Nobel Prize in 1962 ( I believe it was that one? ) it would not win my personal Nobel Prize right now. There's reading about real life, and then there's trudging through it, without any emotional connection besides feeling like it's a hogwash of text.

I'm not recommending this novel as a Steinbeck character study. Grapes of Wrath, The Moon is Down, and Cannery Row were much harder hitting and didn't feel like as much of a drudge. I would say that I'd try again, but I know I won't. The title at least delivered: I read this during the winter, and it was a book that filled me with discontent.

Delightful, strange, quirky. The Gothic in the most macabre sense. Sometimes, the drawings provide more of an insight than the captions which accompany them, which is always amusing.

A slow, ambling journey accompanied by a slow, ambling introspection. The writing is as exploratory as Steinbeck views the world around him. Would not recommend for those looking for a quick read. Would recommend for those wishing to analyse what it was like to see America uninterrupted back in the day. You might notice that some things haven't changed a bit between then and now.

I'm glad I gave this one a chance.

The pacing in this one is excellent, as are the dives into the characters. I found myself invested from the get-go, and the different threads interconnecting them were fascinating. The explanations of the culture were better integrated into the narrative, as opposed to resembling historical subtext dumps, and the plot wove itself into a wonderful tapestry. I was a little uncertain about the romance choice, without stating outright spoilers, and despite the methodology of making it make sense, and having its solid origins, I didn't quite come around to it. In my opinion, it would have been fine without a romance at all. That would be my only complaint, I think.

The mystery and intrigue of the “in-between” had me biting my nails; every character had a purpose, and the change-up between perspectives ( first-person and third are both utilised ) had me gripped. I would read this one again, despite knowing how the story ends. Truly good.

What a terrific ending.

Going into this, I knew what to expect: this was a Vietnamese-inspired take on the faerie tale of Snow White, and so, I knew how it was going to end, the direction in which it was going. But what Ms. Dao did with the tale — honestly, one of the best experiences I've ever read. I've seen complaints in some reviews for a “lack of character development” in the main protagonist's arc. But Jade, to me, did not have to have something astounding or “villainously” captivating like Xifeng in the first novel. She had her own arc, we went through her strong emotions, succumbing to temptation, rising above it. And it was so powerful to me, see her remain pure and not surrendering stories nor initial beliefs ( doing my best to not use spoilers! ) Seeing returning characters from the first novel was also a joy.

What I enjoyed is that you could really read either of the novels in this duology first, and then, read the other for supplement. The very wuxia type ending was wild, and enjoyable to read, and honestly, I liked how Ms. Dao wrapped up all of the plot elements started in Forest. For me, some of the dialogue fell a little flat, and there were places I wish we had lingered more, or had more of an emotional impact written in there to experience — but not everything can be engaging or quote-worthy, there's bound to be some filler and even when it was filler, or seemed a bit flat, it still — fit? So, a minor complaint.

I can't wait to continue diving into Ms. Dao's writing and take on tales!

There are racial slurs towards black people and a chapter of assault near the end.

Now that I have this out of the way.

This is a novel that starts out promising. Beautiful descriptions of nature, wonderful comparisons of our main protagonist learning about humans through animals and fungus and the swamps, feeling the water around your feet, seeing it sprout in your cabin. The familial dynamics captivated me, the slow start with the “mystery present day” chapters sprinkled in was so engaging.

Then, the second half happened. The second half took the first half and transformed it, somehow, from a promising southern-gothic mystery into a twisted-up love triangle, where both men love interests thought of her as “the girl who isn't like other girls” and it wasn't due to her individuality, but her forsaking traditional femininity roles. ( We even see her trying to emulate those to “be pretty” for them. ) I enjoyed the first romance. I REALLY did. The way they communicated, the way he was willing to meet her in the middle. The reason for it ending? Stupid. Fell flat.

The racial slurs in question happened on one page. The situation was never brought up again. It struck me as being used as a way to further the white protagonist's narrative ( who seemed rather “wild Indian” coded as we went along, and yes, I know that swamp-person-culture is real, and I am not invalidating that with this statement, but after reading the blatant racial slurs, my guard went up. ) The racial tensions of this time period were brushed upon or used to further her narrative. And then, in the second half, which consisted of nothing but the court case and that wasn't emotionally involving at all, I'm expected to feel sympathetic ... for the discrimination against HER, the protagonist.

My empathy vein had turned off by that point. And honestly, it was no fault of the protagonist's, I actually found her to be a very objectively empathetic person despite her upbringing. It was the author's. In my opinion, you should not be writing out slurs that do not belong to you. You definitely shouldn't use it, and the black characters, who I was desperate to know more about ( and honestly, any more townsfolk in general! beyond their tropes, but no! ) were reduced to minstrel-like characterisations.

I couldn't believe the entire second-half of the book, for me, failed to deliver on the promises that were in the first half. This was very nearly a do-not-finish, and whilst the assault scene in question was not explicit, it was explicit enough that I dissociated. I warn any person of colour or survivor of assault to be cautious when reading this book — or to avoid reading it all together.

The beautiful, colourful language — was restricted to nature. That is the greatest disappointment.

A wonderful slice-of-life book that spends a good amount slowly setting up the scene in order to break it apart into polaroid-like fragments. It's a metaphor for how the book itself is written: with one perspective, then others building atop each other in a mishmash of a collage. No one will ever truly be aware of how one photograph connects to the other, not even the one who put them together. Having to be at peace with not receiving closure in the ways one would want.

The writing style reminded me of what you might find in a fictional memoir. The characters were all alive, even if nothing was centred on them (as in, the side characters were breathing too). Everyone is a grey area, everyone has their reasons and a lot are justified and a lot aren't, including the darker side of their decisions. There were a lot of parts that spoke to me; I appreciated the subtlety but blunt refusal to relent with which a lot of “small town” micro-aggressions were written. Nothing about this didn't feel real, and that's so rare to find with literature in general.

Part of me almost wanted the little fires to be caused by something or someone else. But in a way, the “culprit” being given away early, and the rest of the novel more so exploring what that means, is more fitting of the narrative. Another metaphor as to how some of us get tightly closed up with our fear and others set a literal match to it to start over. Still, I would definitely recommend this novel to others and also re-read it, which is a rare thing for me to say.

An excellent read. Revisiting the old with a new twist, and Pullman's prose is as engaging as ever. I found myself emotionally invested in the characters and breathing hard whenever a tragedy seemed to happen upon them. It wasn't a ridiculous amount of things, although the things that did happen were thoroughly fascinating. This was very comforting, like sitting in one's favourite armchair with a cup of coffee in a vintage mug. I'm very much looking forward to the sequels.

This was an interesting journey. Literary and surreal and horrific in a lot of parts, but very real. I did follow the plot for the most part; it's my own fault that I kept stopping and starting and losing my place. I will say that in some places, it was almost too surrealist. Although it didn't derail nor read in an entirely confusing manner, it was still somewhat difficult to follow. I don't think it needed more “explanation” but rather more expansion. There's a lot that could've been “more” in that sense and it only would've added to how tasty the baseline prose already was. The story itself tugged at me and the sense of being “trapped” and how those tables turned (no spoilers) was really well done. But I was not entirely captivated with this one.

A quest for identity and discovery cloaked in magical writing and bilingual rhetoric. I have been meaning to read this collection of stories ever since I read “The House on Mango Street” back in high school. And back then, I didn't have much of an appreciation for it. I found it confusing and wasn't willing to put in the work to understand. With this, I took my time, tapped into my own bilingual brain, and found a semblance of comfort, laughter, and sadness at the stories in here.

One of the best things about Sandra Cisneros' writing is the fact that you don't have to be bilingual yourself in order to understand. She crafts through context clues and graceful inserted translations a method of comprehension for those who don't speak Spanish. Her descriptors are sharp, sentences are short, each story is less a “story written” and more a “tale told.” It's a snippet into people's lives, it's evocative with the senses. When I reached the story with the title's namesake, I was particularly quite excited to see why she chose it as the name of the collection — and was not disappointed.

Although House on Mango Street is the one that most have read first in my experience, I would recommend this collection as your first exposure to her writing. The stories are various lengths, and about various characters and things, and will provide more of a sense of success in finishing one even if it's just one page. There are so many lines I could quote. But then this review would tangle.

Maravilloso, este libro me hace sentir emocional. No puedo recomendarlo bastante. Para las audiencias hispanohablantes o “ingles”hablantes, es una aventura.

Quick reads and excellent palette cleansers. One of my personal favourites. Involves an exploration of the Amish countryside and a chase of a criminal we identify right away. It remains one of my favourite Nancy Drew mystery stories to this day. Although far from perfect, and taking into consideration their years of publication, it's a relief to read short and plot-filled novels with wide character casts who are more than tropes ( for me, at least. ) I never get tired of this one.

A much different novel than I thought I would read. Having been a fan of the musical for quite some time, seen the films a dozen different times, it was time to read the novel. That being said, I was expecting the romance that the musical presented. Instead, I received a Gothic-cloaked mystery of romantic proportions with interesting ( albeit dramatic & overtly passionate ) characters and Gaston himself as the narrator. Reading a bit on the history of this novel and its conception provided insight as to why the narrator was as such. For me, it was very well put together, although it left me with a few questions; the paranormal additions seemed like they were simply put there as a ‘wow' factor to throw the reader ( and the dramatic characters ) off, instead of acting as something to be deciphered. Perhaps the lack of “figuring things out” came from Gaston Leroux not having figured out the original mystery of the Palais Garnier himself. I'm glad I read it, though it doesn't have much re-read value for me, and there were places where the characters' dramatic tendencies were irritating instead of engaging. However, overall, I'm pleased.

A pensive, introspective read that left me wanting more. I wouldn't mind if an entire novel was written about this, instead of a shorter novella. The series of things that happen after dark, delving more into the lives and connections of the characters. All of the characters, complex and intimate, and connected in strange ways. Enough description, poignant and pointed dialogue. Left no questions that felt unanswered. I would read it again, but also it's one of those that I want to remain preserved in its first-reading shell. Magical nonsense and real, true to life.

At first, a confounding dream. Difficult to get through, lots of information to absorb. Then, somewhere in the middle, it arrested me. I found myself reading it at the kitchen table and not having the slightest idea what time it was when I would close the book and have to take a breath. And in the end, when the questions got answered, I felt myself gasp. I'm not sure if I'll remember anything specific from this book; but I will remember that arresting feeling.

Although filled with a lot of “telling” prose as opposed to showing, this is one of the few books that I could handle with that kind of prose. It was done in a masterful way, and I never got confused with the amount of characters nor subterfuge ongoing. The plot is woven wonderfully, and for a debut novel, I'm going to definitely be adding this to my favourites. I can't wait to read the sequels, and see how these dynasties rule.

It was a whirlwind of a read from start to finish. There wasn't a shred of prose that didn't belong, the plot was quick in nature and engaging, and there were a multitude of interesting things happening. I do enjoy how Sir Gaiman provided everything with a positive conclusion and finish; all questions are answered that you might have, all of the bases are covered.

That being said, I did find myself wishing for a bit more ... Full disclosure, however, that I've been spoilt with having seen the film before reading the novel, and for the most part, things matched up! But what the film changed or expanded on, I have to agree with: more time taken on their journey to interact with others, the final “showdowns” with the villain/s ( no spoilers here, ladies and gentlefolk. ), certain deaths, etc. I think in the ending chapter or so, is where things fell flat for me. It was all a bit too easily resolved? I mean, she's a falling star, and? The conflict just ends? Hm.

Admittedly, after such a magical and engaging adventure, it ending like that ( no spoilers! ) was a bit disappointing. Call me hopeless or optimistic, but I do like happier poignant endings. All that to be said, I still recommend it! Especially if you want a relatively quick read, where you do come to care for the characters and wanting to know what happens to each of them, alongside a fast-paced plot.

Thought-provoking, scintillating, daringly religious but also revealing of entirely spiritual matters. A look into the opposite side of things, as opposed to having someone be converted and view it through their eyes, it's viewed through the eyes of the tempters. Lewis's writing brings about a whole bunch of things that you yourself might not want to think about, and in that manner, the book thoroughly disturbed me. It's written in the form of high-vocabulary essays, which might turn off younger readers or most of them. To me, however, it was perfect, a brilliant collection of scathing lettres. It's something I'll sit on, and go back, and read another time with another perspective.

A book that was the kick in the seat of the pants that I needed. Somewhat repetitive, but not overtly so to the point of annoyance, at least not in my opinion. I definitely will be re-reading it whenever I need another shove in the right direction.

[ DNF, page 50. ]

This book had been recommended to me several times over the years. In my opinion, the hype was ... too much. Two stars for the impeccable, lush lore and for the intriguing concept of ghost brides and being haunted by wandering spirits. However, the prose itself did not take me away into the story. I kept waiting to be incredibly captivated, or feel unease, or connect to our protagonist, Li Lan, and I wanted to keep going to see if it would happen, but, unfortunately, for me, it hasn't. This treads the line between adult novel and YA novel, and doesn't sound like either. It reads like a memoir? And that isn't necessarily a bad thing, but I got tired of being told / reported everything instead of just swept into what was going on. Events were recounted, not encountered. People were described, not seen. I'm not sure if that makes sense, and maybe somewhere down the line, I'll finish it, but it won't be now.

A good, quick read that left me wanting for more. I was left feeling poignant and aching. Perhaps that was the whole point of it.