johnny dangerously.
This book is such a ridiculous improvement over previous books in the series. I don't know if I just find Miles' characterization more palateable when he's an adult, or if Bujold's writing has improved, but I found most of this genuinely enjoyable, even if the twist at the end was a little obvious (which is fine, not everything has to be a total shock, but it felt a bit unearned, whatever). It was an excellent character study of Miles, in a similar vein to how Wrath of Kahn looked into what happens when Kirk is grounded. I just wish, since the point Miles choosing not to get his heart's desire, he didn't ultimately get his heart's desire in the end anyway, but that's a problem with Bujold's writing in general. Her favorites may suffer, but they always get the respect (and domestic paradise) they crave in the end.
Honestly, I think if I'm going to keep reading this series, I ought to stick to the Cordelia books. I have nothing against Miles, but the way he's written is a little insufferable. While Cordelia is also ultimately always right about everything, it's somewhat more refreshing to see that in a female character. Reverse sexism strikes again, I guess.
I also just prefer the culture clash and political backdrop of these novels to The Adventures Of Sexist Baby Genuis With A Chip On His Shoulder. Cordelia is, I think, supposed to be an unreliable and biased narrator at times. Maybe that's something Bujold is trying with Miles, but I've never gotten that sense personally. With Cordelia, her super-liberalism is supposed to be lampooned as it contrasts with the super-conservatism of Barrayar, or the central conceit of the book wouldn't work. I personally find that much more engaging to read.
Mediocre to good, but it's a quick and easy read. The central conceit– which is not advertised anywhere in the book, presumably to make it more palatable to people buying it for the Y2K novelty when it was originally published– is deeper than it seems.
The book takes you through a medieval calendar and talks about the cultural associations with that month, the traditions, the holidays, and the work of the average peasant. As books about the average person are punishingly rare, especially for this period, this book is valuable for a researcher. Recommended, but don't expect much analysis.
This book is a classic, and reading it, it's obvious why. The raw power of the writing is matched with the author's passion for the subject, and it illuminates an all-too-forgotten period of history. Reading this book will completely change how you look at colonialism, the Enlightenment, and the birth of modern western politics, because all are deeply tied into the Haitian Revolution. This part of history is often ignored and overlooked, and that's a travesty. To understand the French Revolution, you must learn about the Haitian Revolution. To understand colonialism, you must understand the Haitian Revolution. To understand the birth of America, you must understand the Haitian Revolution. This book is essential.
An excellent book, though it's a bit light on substance in places, and tends to drag. I'm a big fan of Lynn Hunt, but this is not her best work. Still, it's absolutely worth the read, if only for the first chapter alone, which is stand-out. Hunt continues to bring often-overlooked aspects of the Revolution to the fore with deft tone and engaging observations.
A truly magnificent book for anyone interested in the cultural impact of the French Revolution, from its symbols to its psychology. Too many books on this period focus only on the political culture, ignoring the entire point of the political movement: the people, and the upheaval of their everyday lives. This book effortlessly links them, making clear the two currents are inextricable. Highly recommended for anyone interested in understanding this period of history.
This book is an absolute delight, and I can't recommend it highly enough. Reading about the French Revolution– or any revolution– will be hugely impacted. The symbolism and psychology of revolutions, and how a society deals with something so tumultuous, how that changes a culture, all of that is covered in depth in this book. While it has a very purposefully narrow and specific scope, the wider implications are easily seen and applied. A worthwhile read for anyone interested in the French Revolution, or any revolution.
Surprisingly good, considering it's Troy Denning, who I'm not really much a fan of regularly. The characterization of minor elements from The Phantom Menace was a real treat; it managed to carry the tone of the original trilogy and the prequel trilogy, balancing them out and keeping everyone reasonably in character. The central plot was engaging and never dragged.
The squibs were awful, though, oh my god.
An excellent work that ties the sociological underpinnings of corsetry as well as the physical. I can't say if this is the best introduction to the subject– modern discussion of corsetry is such a turgid pit of argument that I don't know if there is such a thing as a good historical introduction– but the read was fascinating, and somehow managed to be lively and informative despite clearly being highly academic. Would recommend, but only to those with extremely specific interests on this subject. Also, strong stomachs for medical torture.
While it has good intentions, and an admirable scope, ultimately this books overwhelming lack of focus is its downfall. It's about the famine after the Medieval Warm Period, but it gets so sidetracked by related issues (that it utterly fails to entirely relate to the book's main subject, ie, the famine) that it ends up a jumbled mess. A beautifully written and exhaustively written jumbled mess, but the fact remains that this book would have been better off as a series of essays concerning a period of Medieval history. Then, the expectation would have been just that, because that is, essentially, what the book is. Instead, readers pick it up expecting an account of Medieval famine and instead get several chapters on Scottish succession crises.
In short, I was expecting something akin to The Great Mortality by John Kelly, and instead got something far more similar to The Great Cat Massacre by Robert Darnton.
A lovely novel, there's really nothing negative I can think to say about it. It only missed out on a full five star rating because I didn't find it a transcendent life experience or something with a massive amount of staying power (for me, personally, at least; I know the book is nothing new and stays beloved in the minds of many). I personally found it very touching and heart-warming, and am glad I read it, but if not for its fame I'm not sure I'd remember it. Then again, if not for its fame, I wouldn't have read it in the first place.
I think this book is, more than anything else, a fascinating snapshot into the world of literary criticism in an age gone past. I'm not sure how relevant it will be to someone who considers themselves a Wagnerian (I, myself, do not, I just really like the Ring Cycle). The theories Shaw proposes are rich and fascinating, but he undercuts them through his own need to prove that Wagner himself would agree. This is an aspect of being a Victorian writer, however, who existed before the principal of the death of the author concept. As such, one of the premier English-speaking authors of our time makes what we now consider an elementary mistake in literary criticism.
Ultimately a strong work, though the historical errors in the first chapter made me suspicious of the factual accuracy for the rest of it. I strongly suspect that a great deal of the wild tales this book retells are better labeled as ‘apocryphal' and ‘alleged'. I was also a bit bothered– or maybe confused– by the continued habit of calling prostitutes ‘whores' when it wasn't strictly necessary– for example, in the actual prose written by the author and no one else. However, all of these things are a risk I knowingly took with this book, and all popular history books that attempt to make any sense out of sex and sexuality. Overall an entertaining read, and that's really all I wanted.
In particular, what saves this book from a lower rating are the chapters on the Restoration period, which are fascinating and full of life. That, and the unremitting effort on the part of the author to take a pro-woman stance, never doubting the prostitutes or their stories and always taking their side when applicable. We need more books like this, even if the writing is a little thin in other places.
This book is a massive improvement over the preceding two, as evidenced by my reading it in one day rather than over months. It has none of the pacing problems of the first two, and doles out its adventure evenly, with excellent character moments in between. The villains are entertaining and the story is engrossing.
It's not perfect, though. A few things stuck out as odd, (Glendower's banner did not have ravens on it, but an A to Moe Dee for sticking to themes) but nothing really took me out of the story as much as Adam's conflict with his father. While realistically written on an emotional level, I couldn't really understand the legal aspect of the conflict. If Adam was 17 when his father was arrested, he would not be able to drop the charges against his father, because of his status as a minor. Regardless of his age, he probably wouldn't have been needed as a witness, since the police officer at the scene of the crime would have been enough of one.
However, these failings in minor research detail don't detract from the emotional power of the novel. Maggie Stiefvater has really come into her own during the writing of this series, and it shows with how she handles her characters. I look forward to the next in this series.
This book is dry. Really dry. You just won't believe how vastly, hugely, mind-bogglingly dry it is. I mean, you may think there's a water scarcity problem in the Sahara, but that's just peanuts to this book.
It's highly informative, and I recommend it to someone who is already somewhat familiar with the politics of the period. The book also takes time to point out– always interestingly– when certain political moves and events were less unrealistic or surprising than we may think from a modern perspective. It has a good handle on leading the reader through its wealth of information without being condescending.
But my god, it is dry.
When I was just a few chapters into this book, I was worried. The premise is a dark one, and I wasn't sure it was being handled with the awareness it required. Without giving away too much, in this book, the Jedi Order essentially assigns one of its members to assassinate someone. In the initial chapters of the book, this is handled pretty lightly, without anyone conscientiously objecting or even being really horrified by what's happening all around them. I decided to reserve judgement and keep reading before I let that artificially color my perception of the book into the negative, and I'm glad I did.
The plot of this book is like a whirlwind. It's not trying to branch out into multiple different directions – Christie Golden makes the wise choice of not trying to be Timothy Zahn, though she takes obvious inspiration from him with every mention of the snap-hiss noise lightsabers make – and the plot is fairly linear. However, the book is totally aware of how one person's actions affect everyone in a galaxy far, far away, and it never shies away from that. The galaxy is at war, and this book looks at the affect that has on people, and their principals. Again and again the book reinforces the theme that you can never really realize how far you've come until it's too late. Can you come back from the edge? That's what this book is about.
This book is also about two rather minor characters in the grand scheme of things, especially now that the old EU has been discontinued and Quinlan Vos' old backstory has been erased. This book seeks to reinvigorate the character, who in the new Disney canon only really has one canonical appearance in The Clone Wars cartoon series (and, yeah, that bit where he's technically a background extra in The Phantom Menace, but he doesn't actually have any lines there, okay?). The book also serves to explain Ventress' actions, look at her motivations, and really look at them in the context of the war and the events who made her who she is. Do our actions, even under duress, define us? What does it mean to give up our principals in a time of war and stress? Can you remake yourself after that? Can you heal? The book asks the characters all of these questions to great effect, and more besides. I think it serves as excellent development for everyone involved.
So, if you like Quinlan Vos (or want to know more about him, the new Disney canon him), this is a book you should read. If you like Asajj Ventress, this is a book you should read. It does a brilliant job by both characters, keeping their actions believable within the context of their previous appearances while expanding them in new and interesting ways that nonetheless feel consistent and earned. It also does well by other characters, especially Obi-Wan Kenobi, whose roll in the novel isn't small. It's a bit harsh on Mace Windu, but I think that characterization is fair with how we see him in Revenge of the Sith, and even serves to display how someone so peaceful in the early Clone Wars could become so aggressive and emotionally shut off. Shatterpoint is no longer canon, but it doesn't have to be, when a long, drawn-out war can have a similar affect on a soldier's psyche. Yoda is, in my opinion, let off a little light compared to Windu, but then, I'm not a big fan of Yoda, so I'm probably biased. Boba Fett makes a surprising and delightful appearance as well, but I won't spoil it more than that.
Overall, I think the book is overwhelmingly successful in what it sets out to do. It wants to talk about how far the Jedi Order has come, and if it's ultimately done so in the right direction. It uses Vos' journey through the book to do that, and mirrors it with Ventress' past, and her potential for change in an equal but opposite direction. I'm trying not to spoil too much, but suffice to say the book makes all their fates intertwined in a fascinating and thought-provoking way. Ultimately, I think the ending of this book will be controversial among fans, but I don't really think that's a bad thing. If this book stimulates discussion, all the better.
The book isn't perfect, of course. The issues it deals with are things that require a deft hand and a fair amount of subtlety, though that subtlety is never really felt in the novel itself. As a result, some of the parallels and themes, as well as motivations and actions of characters, can feel a bit thudding and rushed. I think this is due to the fact that the book has a rushed pace in general. It's no secret that this book was based off unused scripts for unfinished episodes of the prematurely canceled Clone Wars series, and I think that caused a slight strain that shows in places. This book was supposed to have eight episodes of action and character development, all compressed into a single book that likely had page length restrictions imposed upon it from its editors. It's a good novel, and does the best it can within those limitations. The pace feels a bit breakneck at times, but it's a matter of opinion whether that's an exciting feature or a dizzying bug.
In the end, though, the book is a great success, and a must-read for fans of the series. I'm not sure how someone who isn't already invested in Vos, Ventress, or the Star Wars universe (as specifically presented in the Clone Wars cartoon series) will feel about the book. It's not interested in getting people up to speed with unfamiliar concepts, characters and events. That's not necessarily a bad thing; a Star Wars tie-in novel marketed toward adults based around the actions of two minor characters was never going to have wide-ranging appeal beyond a very select target audience. With that in mind, it's almost surprising the book was published at all, but I'm glad it was. It does an excellent job accomplishing what it sets out to do: flesh out its two main characters, give a fascinating moral and emotional backdrop to a setting torn apart by war, and provide an entertaining and exciting adventure. I highly recommend it for fans of the series.
I was sent a free copy of this book from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.
This book is such a great improvement over the first, while still feeling very much like the same series. I enjoyed it, though admittedly I stopped reading it for a few months in the middle. It's not a particularly gripping read– it moves at a very leisurely pace for three fourths of the book, and then suddenly everything happens all at the same time to conclude all the loose threads. It's poor pacing that is sadly consistent from the first book to the second, which is a little sad because it means it'll likely show up in the third book as well.
But I do intend to read the third book, and the fourth when it arrives. The characters are interesting and the story is compelling. The series has potential, and shows great growth from the author, even from book to book.
When Steifvater is on, she is on. Her writing of Adam's trauma and struggles with class are incredibly spot-on, they feel real and realistic and are one of the book's major successes in poignance and feeling. She's also very good at subtly writing Gansey's flaws, and making Ronan's motivations seem more complex than just raging anger issues. Blue's emerging sense of identity and maturity is fun to watch. The Grey Man is a hilarious and unexpected source of comic relief and a wonderful subversion of the sleek, cool, collected hitman archetype.
And then there are characters like Kavinsky, one-dimensional villains who are so over-the-top they seem almost to be parodying themselves. Kavinsky gets such morally complex and elegant lines as, “consent is overrated,” and, “can we go before I have to get high again,” just in case you weren't sure what kind of character he is. I know we were supposed to hate him, but I ended up disliking him not for himself, but because here he was again, taking up space with his tryhand antics when I could read about something more interesting and remotely believable. In a book with magical dreams, undead Welshmen, a dragon, and an actual wizard, the fact that a rude teenager sticks out as the most unbelievable part is notable.
Basically, what I'm saying is that this book– this series– is an incredibly mixed bag. I'm willing to stick with it, though, and even recommend it.
The writing is a bit awkward in places, but once the plot picks up, the slow burn becomes worth it. Recommended to urban fantasy fans who want something more substantial than ‘elves in the subway'. The book has a social conscience, which adds incredibly to its favor; it never forgets that it's primarily concerned with affluent men, which makes the fact that it's primarily concerned with affluent men far, far more tolerable than it would be otherwise.
I'd recomend this highly as a look into Victorian social mores, women's lives in Victorian England, and the changing social sphere of women during this period. Unlike what many would like us to believe, the ‘correct' social, financial, matrimonial and educational status of women fluctuated throughout this period, and no one can look into this better than the outsiders of the social order, governesses.
However, the prose occasionally editorializes where it's completely unnecessary, putting an opinionated spin on what is otherwise an invaluable history. These women have been talked over enough in their lives; they don't need the trend continued posthumously.
I really like history books, but most of them are stuck up their ass. I'm not a scholar, and I don't think scholarly work should be barred from me just because I haven't spent years in study. At the same time, I don't want things dumbed down to me. Finding that balance can be hard for writers of ‘pop' history– which invariably just means any history book you're unlikely to find in a classroom—either you suggest your readers are idiots, or you make a book too stuck up for the casual reader to understand.
Yes, I am a filthy history casual.
This book is for filthy history casuals. This isn't an insult, coming from me! It's a compliment! I wish more books were written like this! I wish more books had the guts to be humble, admit their biases, and look to modern culture as well as past history. I wish more books were interested in talking about the evolution of historical figures. I wish more books were interested in, quite frankly, telling the whole story, not just of the historical figure but of the figure's history.
This book isn't perfect. It loses steam after Anne dies (who doesn't?) and some of its pop-cultural observations are a little pithy or airy. But I'd rather have those than a book that ignores them entirely. This book is trying new and interesting things, and seriously interrogating the culture that springs up around history fans in a lively and engaging manner.
Susan Bordo can write. You would think that would stand out less when reviewing a book, but not in the history category, chock-full of dry, lifeless tomes. This book is a godsend, I highly recommend it. Even if you don't usually find Tudor history interesting (I sure don't), give this one a spin. You may be surprised. At the very least, you'll be entertained, which is, also, a compliment.
Unexpectedly magnificent, Ancillary Justice promises a seamless blend of literary and genre fiction. Unapologetically scifi, the sprawling world is kept in check by tight narration, ruthlessly efficient prose, and a plot that, once it gets rolling, refuses to stop for anything. The twists and turns are genuinely surprising, and that's no small praise for a book taking place in an entirely constructed world, where every plot movement is dictated entirely from the imagination of the author. Yet the rules never seem arbitrary, and the stakes never seem tacked on.
The immediate comparison that springs to mind is The Left Hand of Darkness, and the book serves as a compelling answer to the questions posed in LeGuin's classic. While it's no heir– surely, we're all mature enough not to believe that every shock of modern brilliance is just some inheritance carried down from the ages– it's certainly a thought provoking and modern update. It asks similar questions, but in new and inventive ways, and gets fascinating new answers.
What does it mean to be human? And what is the point of fate? If everything is per-ordained, what is the point of working toward a goal? If people are bred to their roles, do their choices truly matter, or is that fate as well? And if people can be made as well as born, what hand do they have in fate? And what does gender mean to any of this?
If you want to stew in that philosophical soup, read Ancillary Justice. Or if you just want a fascinating trip through a wonderful world with interesting characters, read it.
The only word of criticism I can offer is that the narrative conceit, that every other chapter takes place in another time, can take a while to get used to. This is largely due to the fact that the modern chapters have a much stronger plot than the chapters detailing the main character's past. Still, if one can get through that, the reward is more than worth it.
This book takes everything I liked about the first book and throws it out the window. I'm not sure why the writer found it necessary to, after writing a book with a tight plot and close inspection of nuanced characters, turn around and write a sequel with neither.
The overwhelming majority of characters in this book either lack depth, or have no motivation beyond ‘wanton cruelty and petty malice borne of ignorance'. While that's a believable motivation, surely, it does get grating when it's literally everyone who doesn't align themselves with the protagonist.
Breq, in the first book, is flawed, interesting, and relatable. In the second book, she's always right about everything, with little subtlety or nuance. She understands human motivations perfectly, can predict everyone's movements constantly, and wins over everyone who is initially skeptical. Those who don't see the light never will, they're lesser and anyway she's always right.
Furthermore, she became totally uninteresting to me as a protagonist, but I'm at least aware this is my personal biases speaking. When you put your character in a position of power, in the military, representing a government with imperialist interests, on a planet that has suffered the horrible ravages of colonialism, it's hard enough to make them sympathetic already. Breq is in this position, but she's supposed to care about everyone and be capable of empathy. Yet, for all her shining brilliance, she's like everyone else: she'll help in small ways, if a problem falls literally in her lap, or if it inconveniences her. But widespread change? Actually fixing systematic problems? Well, that's someone else's headache, surely.
Yes, you can say that's a tall order for anyone, but upholding justice is like pacifism: doing anything less than all you can is tantamount to doing nothing at all. Practicing pacifism sometimes is just selective violence, and justice for some is just another word for injustice. It's not a path for everyone, and not everyone should try, but the book presents Breq's actions as just and necessary, and never acknowledges that she does more than a little, but far less than enough. It's a problem symptomatic of many books tackling themes of social change and systematic injustice: enacting any positive wide scale change is simply not a matter for discussion, it's a foregone conclusion.
I'm not asking for Breq to change the world. I'm asking the book to acknowledge that the tiny little things she's willing to do are not, actually, the shining beacon of hope the book presents them as. She is still a colonizer, and all she's doing is allowing the occasional disenfranchised native who falls into her lap to benefit from her imperialist power and influence.
There's also the matter of the plot, which is stagnant and meandering, to contrast with the straight-forward and unremitting pace of the first book. It sets up plot points for later that require one to empathize with the imperialist forces (who are, again, written as explicitly imperialist) or wonder at the clearly contrived mystery, set obviously up as a hook for the sequel. The first book was fluid, and the progression felt natural. In this one, everything seems constructed for the needs of the moment.
A disappointing read. Perhaps the first book works better as a standalone.