johnny dangerously.

(Thank you to Netgalley for an advance digital copy of this book in return for a fair review.)

An author's first novel is always a little clunky, but I've never read one that shone with such promise as Wrath Goddess Sing. While the phrasing and pacing need a little polish, the story, characters, ideas, and raw emotions of the work shine through.

I think the most impressive thing about the story is how well Achilles works as a protagonist. Her perspective– flawed and obviously biased– somehow also makes the world feel more full. Nailing an unreliable narrator's point of view is a hard thing to do at the best of times, much less for an author's first go.

The blend of mythology, archaeology, classical paganism, and science weave a gripping story in a fully-realized world. Upping the stakes of the Trojan war is fantastic. The view of history this novel pulls out to include is excellent. This is a book I'll reread time and time again.

Obviously I tore through this one, and recommend it highly for horror fans who can deal with a little claustrophobia. I liked the dedication to ambiguity as well; the author never felt the need to provide a definitive answer to what was going on, and thus everything was made more horrific. Characters have theories on why things are happening, but they'll never know for sure. The SF premise only heightens this. I loved it.

I'd really rather give it 4.5 than 4, but GR will do what it does. The ending... Mmm. I felt the ending was just a little too clean after the dark murkiness of the rest of the book.

I think I just might not like happy endings for books that spend so much time on horror and terror and violence. That might just be a me problem. I can understand wanting comfort after a book like this. I just don't want it for myself.

I'm not sure how I feel about this one. The good parts were good (the characterization), the bad parts were bad (the... politics?), the mediocre parts were mediocre (the worldbuilding). That said, I can't tell how much of that is my own personal expectations not being met, versus the novel doing what it's set itself up to do. The book is very front-loaded with fairy tales, should I be disappointed in its lack of a darker ending, when so much of the book itself is dark and brooding?

Without giving any spoilers away, let me just say I think the book is perfect if you chop the epilogue off. But I'm maybe overfond of ambiguity.

Medieval Jews... don't make it out okay. Pagans... don't make it at all. This book seems to be somewhat more interested in history than fairy tales, but perhaps that's, again, my preference for historicity over fairy tales. I just can't buy that everything is going to be okay, after so much blood has been spilled.

Absolutely sublime. The book accomplishes everything it sets out to do with flying colors. It also fixes the problem I had with the author's previous work - the Luminous Dead is wonderful, but I felt its ending was a little off, tonally, from the rest of the work. The Death of Jane Lawrence keeps its tone consistent throughout, has a lovely breakneck pace, and in a rare twist, a complex magic system I didn't find absolutely boring. Highly, highly recommended.

I have no words for this book. It's wonderful. It's perfect? It's just what I needed. It's just what I always wanted.

I'll be the first to admit I've never cared much for Restoration history, which probably made some of the twists more twisty than they were meant to be. But for being a book of historical fiction, it's full of surprise. It's full of romance, too, the sort I don't generally care for, much less root for. The main romance is a mature, thoughtful love, something that grows and changes with time, just like the plot, just like the characters. This book is a masterpiece.

Diana Norman was not buried in Poet's Corner.

But she should have been.

Absolutely stunning, especially for a first novel. The scope with which Parker-Chan writes is phenomenal, yet the subtle and quiet moments are real and true as well. The book balances the colossal subjects it covers, sweeping death and battlefields on fire, with intimate moments between lovers, broken promises between friends.

If you're a fan of big action, big feelings, or historical dramas, you need to read this immediately.

In this one, Flynn finally develops her themes instead of just kind of presenting them. She also gets better at pacing, though the end of the book drags a little (I'm not sure that'd be the case if you hadn't already seen the film, though; at least this book didn't just suddenly come to an abrupt ending at the second half of the last chapter with a tacked on happy ending paragraph).

I think Flynn's books might just not be for me, because while this is inarguably her best written book, it was also, for me, the least enjoyable. Again, though, that could have been due to having seen the film first (but, admittedly, I was spoiled for the twists in Sharps Objects and Dark Places and didn't find those as much of a drag, so ???). Great job me, coming to this conclusion after reading three books by her. I'm kind of a bozo.

That sure was a book I read!

There are a lot of things I could comment on– the weird inaccuracy with what I know of the true crime community, given that literally all my friends are true crime freaks– but whatever. I read this book after Sharp Objects because I wanted to figure out something that's been bugging me since chapter two of SO.

Does Gillian Flynn hate women, or is her protagonist just a female misogynist? It makes sense for Camille, less so for Libby, but Libby seems to hate fucking everyone. And, you know, that's a style. If you wanna write everyone like you're JK Rowling describing Rita Skeeter, it's a choice.

But, that question solved, I'm left waving my hand at these deus ex machina murderer characters. Why do they murder? Because they're murderers! Anyone can just be completely unhinged, for no fucking reason, as the plot demands it. I'm sure it ties up lose ends, but like... it always pulls me out of it because the utter murderyness is the same. They're just full of brutality, because.

Needless to say, I'm reading Gone Girl next.

cool to read the book all the other books on this subject are cribbing off.

Probably the weakest Saxon Story novel yet, by which I mean it's a brilliant piece of historical fiction. The plot was solid, but felt more like a series of brilliant but awkwardly connected scenes than previous books. That said, those brilliant scenes truly are brilliant and highly memorable.

A weird book. Self-published by an author with– to my knowledge– no official academic work in the field, it serves as much as an introduction to Norse mythology and its intersection with Norse culture as it does one man's perspective on Norse mythology and its intersection with Norse culture.

If you're already familiar with the subject and don't need an easy introduction, you're much better off reading Gods and Myths of Northern Europe by H.R. Ellis Davidson. Not least because The Viking Spirit is hugely influenced by this book.

This book holds the distinction of having probably the best rendered, best written battle scene I've ever read. It's slow and painful, purposefully so, and perfectly explains every part of the fight, so the reader is never confused or caught off guard by developments in the fighting. Every part of the army makes sense, their movements and their gambits.

This book renders mood wonderfully in general; the scenes with the dying infant (no spoilers), the miserable waiting months in the swamp, the final battle itself, all have distinct moods that are rendered inexorably in my memory.

Possibly my favorite Cornwell yet.

I love Cornwell's ability to write a battle in a way that isn't ultraviolent or boring. I love his way with characters and showing their entire lives in just a few pages. I love his focus on parts of history that aren't well recorded, making me feel like a time traveler into the unknown.

Is he doing anything ground breaking? Probably not. But these books, like the Warlord Chronocles (narrated by the same guy, Jonathan Keeble, who does an excellent job with both books) are an immense comfort read for me.

A lovely post-cyberpunk romp in neo-noir trappings, the worldbuilding is gritty without being grimdark, and the entire book is shot through with humor.

Kovacs is a wonderfully flawed protagonist, not just in his emotional and heroic core, but in the sense that his small failures and harms to his pride are very real– he seems to view male sexuality as a disgusting burden rather than something virile and manly, which is refreshing for sf written by cis men.

However, the sex scenes were pointless and lurid, and the dogfucking scene (you'll know when you get there) was pointlessly disgusting.

For those wondering, yes it is significantly different enough from the Netflix series to warrant a read. In general, it foreshadows where the series over-explains, carefully hinting at its worldbuilding.

Overall, a fun read if you have a high tolerance for genre staples such as these. Not for everyone, but definitely for me.

Well, now I have ‘I Think We're Alone Now' stuck in my head.

My Best Friend's Exorcism isn't about demons, or spooky nightmares, or gore, or violence, or milkshakes. It has those things, but those things are just pillars to hold up the real point. This book is about the power of friendship, and its harsh realities. It's also about the really horrible parts of the 80's, from the Satanic Panic to the War on Drugs, rampant classism and poisonous interpretations of Christianity. And all of those aspects are used to augment the real point: Friendship, how it lasts, its realities, its pains, what can hurt it and what can hold it up.

Head and shoulders above the first novella, which wasn't even that bad, this story shows real growth with what the author is trying to do with this world and the characters in it. Genuinely heartwarming and interesting, the ending surprised me more than the ending of the first book, even though that was arguably a twist and this one wasn't. The main character's development over the story, a development they're clearly not very aware of, came as a huge and very comforting, engaginge shock to me.

While the beginning is a bit rocky and jumbled, the characters shine all the way through, and the ending makes everything perfectly worth it. The brevity helps immensely; this story did not need to be any longer than it was, and I'm glad no one pressured the writer into expanding it.

An excellent, clever, literary novel about modern fairy tales and fatherhood.

This novel is a masterclass in using fairy tale themes, and explains to me why so many gritty re-imaginings of fairy tales feel so hollow. This book actually has something to say other than ‘remember that shit you liked when you were a kid? We're reheating it because you're an ADULT now!'

It's so clever. That's the thing I can't get over. The way it writes magic, the way it comments on modernity, the way it ties history to the present, is so clever and masterful. This book is the work of a truly excellent author, to the point where its flourishes and victories look effortless.

DNF @ p140. Poor horror, an unsure voice, terrible humor, no suspense. Suffers extremely from being the first book I read after THE RED TREE, so I may be biased.

I don't think I'll ever read a horror novel I'll like better.

This isn't one of those books I think was ‘written just for me', or whatever that phrase means. It is, instead, a way to look into another world and see what it's trying to say. The book is layered in metaphor under metaphor under metaphor. I came away with theories, only for the final few chapters to tell me my theories, however plausible, did not matter. They don't save Sarah. You can't save Sarah. The ending happens before the beginning, and you know it, but you keep reading anyway.

We're all just fodder for the tree.

I'm not sure what to say about this book. It's very good, though more of a 3.5er for me personally. I liked all the characters. I even liked the romance. The conclusion was excellently written. I think I'm just not too into Gothic horror, and this is a weird book to find that out on. But it's excellently written, with memorable characters, a well-paced plot, and a viciously lovely ending.

I highly recommend it for those who find fascination in lurid tales of ancient families, horrible murder-suicides, mysterious incest, and the other staples of Gothic literature that, while well-deployed here, kinda don't do it for me, personally.

Still, good book. No argument there.

Almost certainly the only True Crime novel I'll read, or ever need to read. While I generally find this genre's penchant for lurid fixations on invasions of privacy distasteful, this book is thoughtful and eloquent, putting itself under the microscope as much as the killer.

This book is a bit messy, but not in a terrible way. It shows the sign of a promising new author finding their voice, and the strong plot makes it easy to forgive the slow start and under-defined protagonist. I look forward to the sequel, because this is the first time in a long time I'm genuinely excited to see where a series goes just in terms of plot. Hopefully the next book will be less bare-bones, and flesh out not only the alien worldbuilding, but also the smaller details of Cora's life, to make her feel more, well, human.

I hate American history.

My experiences with it in high school were poor. I just always found it boring. It's just not my thing. I wasn't expecting to make it through this tome, especially considering I listened to it through audible. Thirty-five hours of American history!

I was riveted and absolutely loved it.

Chernow is an incredible talent. All my complaints about his style (occasional over-editorialization) are middling at best compared to the incredible breadth and depth of his research, his ability to balance history with philosophy, and his obvious fondness for the subjects he presents. Chernow makes the characters jump alive on the page, and even though I knew the outline of Hamilton's tragic life, I was still surprised and excited for the next chapter to unfold. I can't recommend this book enough, even with the length. Impeccably written with a lovely style, the words really come alive with the aid of Scott Brick's reading. Even if you're not big on American history, or are just sick of hearing about this guy because of the musical, give the book a try.

A work of beauty as strange as its subject, I think this book should ideally be taught in schools. I doubt this will ever be, seeing as its subject is often too brutal for me, at least, to feel safe foisting it on young and already nihilistic teenagers. Regardless, this book has something to say, and it says it eloquently and evenly, never shouting its message, but getting it across nonetheless. I highly recommend the version read by Anderson himself.