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The Escape Artist was a tough read for me to get through because of its subject matter. School education prioritizes statistics and generalities, glossing over darker details and lived experiences. The Escape Artist introduces the experiences of Jews in Europe during the Holocaust through the eyes of Rudolf Vrba.

Throughout this book, I was astonished by the mind and soul of Vrba. While his near perfect memory, intelligence, linguistic abilities, and survival instincts are worth mentioning (something that I would like for myself), it's his resilience to endure and persevere even through the most difficult and inhumane situations. His motivation to escape and warn the world never wavers, even if his ability and will to live, does. It is hard to stomach what Vrba and his fellow inmates go through, and what happens to the Jews upon arrival at Auschwitz. However, I found it an important read to better grasp and understand it.

Something I had not known was the role Jewish and Allied leadership failed to play in preventing mass genocide, as well as how information and truth will not always lead to a better informed populace. A powerful message that Vrba and Freedland hone on is how knowledge does not stem from information alone, but comes from the combination of information and belief. Only then can that knowledge be used to potentially save your own life, or give you that choice.

DNF? Technically I finished it, but I skimmed the rest of the book after the first 30 pages. The writing style and characters are simply not for me. Ellie is self-deprecating and very miserable, which isn't something I really want to read about. After those 30 pages, I looked at reviews and spoilers. And yeah, I didn't feel like fully reading it anymore knowing the outcome.

I was interested in this book after seeing a TikTok about it, and the premise seemed very interesting. But I don't think rom-com fake-dating and miscommunication tropes are for me anymore, they're just... overly formulaic and recycled but in different plot settings. Reading this book felt like a Wattpad sometimes, especially with the pop culture references. The webcomic Ellie is writing? It's so nitty gritty in detail that it takes me out of the experience that she's writing a webcomic - girl, this is a very detailed NOVEL now.

Jack and Andrew's family finds out about the arrangement/love trapezoid through Ellie's webcomic, which makes no sense at all. This implies Ellie made updates about this whole scenario, including more and more details, WHILE hanging out with them. That is so bizarre and kind of creepy. I highly doubt she actually did that too, but whatever is convenient to cause drama, right?

I don't like it when character development or growth happens in the last 2 chapters. I'm glad Ellie finally stands up for herself and decides to take better care of herself. I just wish it didn't take this entire scenario for her to realize that. I also am not convinced by the “fall in love in one day” scenario. Granted, I didn't fully read the flashbacks (they were boring for me since I already know Ellie falls madly in love with her anyway), so I don't know fully how “connected” they really are. But I do remember seeing a line where they both said, “It feels like I've known you forever”. Oh, this cliche... all of this in 6 hours? Seriously?

Lastly, the Korean erasure needs to be addressed. I don't expect a white, non-Korean author to know Korean culture well enough to write about it, but then it begs the question: why include it at all? Casual diverse representation is the norm now, but I can't help and wonder whether racial diversity is to fill a quota and appeal to more liberal and open-minded audience, or there is a genuine desire to have these characters in the story for a greater meaning, while paying ode to their heritage and background. Nothing stopped the author from making the Kim-Prescotts simply a monoracial Korean family. Why make them a biracial family if you were going to erase every aspect of their Korean culture? 2 of 3 grandmas are white, and the only Korean grandma they have is dead. I don't remember seeing any other incorporation of Korean culture into their family get-together besides a mention of Mrs. Kim's ribs, the use of "halmoni", and the Kim last name. There are far more Taylor Swift references than any acknowledgment or inclusion of their Korean heritage. Not to mention, we have another case of white man marries Korean/Asian wife but treats her horribly. Yes, I understand a need to have nuance and layered relationships but this felt really shallow.

Really disappointing. I was drawn to the whole mysterious magical aspect, but there was not a single piece of magic here. There are allusions to “spells”, dark magic, divination, but was barely used or displayed throughout the book. I expected a mysterious island that was a living and breathing entity (like the Whomping Willow), something that moved and reacted to its surroundings, that really lived alongside the people. Such a shame it wasn't like that at all.

The first 200 pages is an extremely repetitive slow-burn focused on Emery and August's guilt of the past and their longing for each other. I already knew from the super long book summary and the first few chapters that August isn't what the town thinks, and Emery has a deep connected past with him. Is it necessary to read chapter after chapter about the same thing?

The author really emphasized their emotions, it's very palpable and atmospheric, a reflection of how we dwell on our own thoughts and feelings in real life for days and even years, but reading about it is so tiring.

I only continued to see what the big secret was, and the payoff was not worth it. All of these secrets, revenge, sabotage, gossip, just for some fruits? It's almost like the town did not even consider waiting or discussing with August. It is hard to get behind the townspeople's motivations, especially Lily's grandmother. There's nothing particular about this island or its history that drives the people to feel this protective about it either - show it to us, don't just make the characters say this and that about needing to protect Saorise at all costs.

Emery mentions she made a magic-binding “oath” with August when they were teens to love each other forever. She refuses to sever their connection when given the chance. This is such a huge thing the author dropped and Emery did not admit the truth to August AT ALL, which made me completely put off by Emery. It's like she manipulated him into loving her forever, into tying his very soul and essence to her forever without his consent. It's not romantic, it's toxic. I don't care if they had this intense, weird love before the oath, the aftermath makes me wonder if anything between them is truly genuine or some seedy dark thing.

This would've been far more interesting to explore though.

I thought I would like this book especially with that opening premise but this just started to feel very... gore galore. Iglesias critiques religious fanaticism, especially how radical believers push aside their human morality for the sake of a “miracle” from God. The very rotten core of the humans in this book is their selfishness, driven by a perverse desire to serve their own needs and pleasure, whether that be exacting revenge against an enemy, killing for monetary gain, or to fulfill some sort of ridiculous religious belief. Iglesias does well in portraying how dark and twisted a human's soul can become, as well as the conflict between individual choice and systemic (racial and economic) structures.

However, I was not the biggest fan of the supernatural elements in this book. The supernatural monsters and gorey violence overshadowed the “raw” actions and feelings - devastation, instability, loss, hopelessness, despair, and anger - found in human nature. There was no real reason why the supernatural elements even existed beyond pure shock value. It felt like Iglesias kept asking himself, “How can I make the protagonist face an EVEN MORE horrific, sadistic, and repulsive situation, but without explaining how this world works?” There is so much shrouded in secrecy and the characters often ask for explanations for what is going on, but they never get direct answers. They are instead met with hostile and vague responses, such as “Shut up or I'll make (read: kill) you (slowly and painfully)”. It's not a a very productive way of storytelling and instead felt like an excuse to write about gun fights and graphic mutilation.

Oh boy, this book does not hold its punches. It begins fast, making readers dive straight into the story of Ted Severson and his desire to kill his wife, then slowly lulling as he makes those plans, and continues to balloon and spiral into an absolute wild ride of twists.

The Kind Worth Killing interweaves various narrators and their perspectives. It's not linear, which adds a confusing element when trying to piece together the story, but learning their backstories and motivations, as well as the seamless storytelling makes it all worth it.

You can't help but root for Lily; she's the driving force of the book and a psychopathic mastermind. She never quite strays from human morality or reasoning, even if she takes a drastic approach to revenge. She abides by an unwavering philosophy - we all die anyway, so what difference does it make if some bad people die early? - and you can't help but nod in agreement when reading this book and understanding her justification for killing. What kind of people are worth killing? Lily can answer that for you.

I was rooting for her to get away with it all, even if she was being risky, even if I thought that murder was not necessary at all. She's not a hero nor a villain, but a “virtuous do-gooder” willing to take that (morally wrong) extra step that most of us never will or want to do. What makes her a compelling character is how she's such a normal person despite her actions, with feelings and moments of reflection and perhaps even small bouts of guilt.

As for the other primary characters, the only decent one was Ted (albeit a bit boring). I rolled my eyes at Miranda's superficiality, and felt an immense desire to beat the living daylights out of Kimball. These two characters were just terrible people with no redeeming factors; it was so easy to hate them. I can't help but also criticize the men here for constantly sexually objectifying women, treating the women in their lives without love, care or respect. There was not a single man in this book that didn't make me want to punch them (yes, even you Ted, the only decent man here). Reading about a female character who doesn't let men get away with their disgusting behavior was quite gratifying, so I appreciated Lily a lot.

My only small gripe with this book the excessive writing/scene descriptions and the abrupt ending. It was wrapped up a bit too fast in just one chapter, so I would've loved to read a bit more especially since something big just happened. Perhaps we'll find out in the second book.

I actually quite enjoyed this. Was it a bit cliche? Yeah, there were the typical tropes, like the hot, tall, smart, socially awkward male love interest who comes off very cold but is quite gentle and nice to the female protagonist. And of course, our protagonist fits with the trope too. Jess is a bit insecure about herself, thinks of herself as a hot chaotic mess unworthy of love, not super financially secure, typically spews the “my hair and outfits are so ugly today but omg!! The hottie is checking me out, what do I do??”. I'm a bit tired of this dynamic (I just finished The Love Hypothesis which I hated), but The Soulmate Equation gets a slighhhhtt pass from me because Jess strays just a bit from this trope. Her insecurities are rooted from an anxiety about welcoming people into her life, a fear that people will run away from commitment like her mother and her daughter's biological father. However, she has a very strong support system around her, and I'm glad to see how supportive River becomes that it has me rooting for them so much. Had me giggling over how cute, respectful, and nice he was to her. Men, this is the standard.

One of my issues with Jess though is her characterization is so... bland at the beginning. I wasn't completely sure who she was as a person. I thought of her as kind of plain and “average” (in contrast to our resident hottie, River), who was not very confident or had high self-esteem, an easy pushover people-pleaser. I never imagined her as someone charming until she bought an expensive dress for that house party - suddenly she's extremely pretty? She socializes well? She's willing to stand her ground? She's confident? I guess this is perhaps Jess's character development, as she grows more confident and self-assured, but I'd hate to think it's from male validation. Love can improve who we are, but I feel like this book vaguely tells that (mostly through what River has to say about her) rather than showing it. I do appreciate the commentary about how she can and is allowed to shift her priorities of being a mom to her being an individual.

Random, but midway I started imagining Jess as Daisy Edgar-Jones and now I just need this to happen if it ever became a movie.

I'm glad the miscommunication wasn't the worst it could've been in these fake dating stories. I'm glad these adults acted like mature adults, who ask for mutual communication and support, and it wasn't dragged on for so long.

I'm not around 7-8 year old kids that much but do they really talk the way Juno talks? She talks like a much older kid in some parts, so the dialogue took me out. Also, while I think Jess is doing well for a single-mom, reading about constant chaotic mornings was tiring. Just get your kid up earlier PLEASE.

I may have expected more from this book based off its title and synopsis. A boy, desperate to turn the tide of a brutish regime, desperate to see change and be free. What does he do to impact that? What role does he play?

Cristian is a 17 year old high school student blackmailed into becoming an informer. He becomes a “traitor”, and I expected him to be some high traitorous spy lurking in the shadows that makes his betrayal so gut-wrenching, so morally dubious, or something much more high stakes. Well yes, informing on anyone is morally dubious, which Sepetys smartly writes about in her book, especially about how Romania's harsh implementation of surveillance sows distrust, suspicion, paranoia, and fear. Yet, throughout the book I kept wondering at what point will Cristian “turn the tide” or “undermine the regime” through his writing. Where will we see him attempt to manipulate his situation in favor of him and the freedom of all Romanians?

While the writing is rather straightforward to read, I found it hard to keep track of what exactly has happened. Sepetys is clearly a clever writer, with her ability to transition from Cristian's lamenting thoughts to current conversations he's having. But sometimes it became convoluted and I had to go back several pages or chapters to see where Cristian figured something out or what he was referring to (though, perhaps I should've had a more consistent reading schedule instead of reading it every other week, then I wouldn't have forgotten what happened).

I also found some parts of the revolution quite plot convenient for Cristian, such as the Jilava dog attack. It threw me off that the dog suddenly stopped and decided to attack/distract all the agents so Cristian could “slip past” them. By this point, I speculated that Cristian must have died in the revolution and became some iconic hero, simply because of the summary and that prologue. I felt as though the entire revolution arc felt rushed, but it could have been on purpose to resemble the characters' chaotic experience of the whole ordeal.

Hence, the plot direction wasn't what I expected and I was a bit disappointed. I guess I expected more of a spy-like novel, where the heroic protagonist becomes a revolutionary symbol and out-smarts the antagonist(s). Though, it wouldn't have been as realistic, would it? The Securitate is always one step ahead and sees right through Cristian, keeping tabs on him, making sure they always have the upper hand. It's an abusive, exploitative, domineering display of power that Ceaușescu willingly extends to his secret police force, the ones who do his dirty work by enforcing these systems of surveillance among normal citizens. They are the ones preying on innocents, playing with their lives, instilling fear, beating up anyone who isn't subordinate or obedient just to uphold their precious Communist regime. It's a cold reminder that while Ceaușescu may be the one in control, he is, in a way, a “figurehead” of surveillance; the actual watchful eyes of surveillance that invasively creeps into all aspects of your life are his henchmen and your neighbors, family, and friends.

That's why the title is “I Must Betray You”. It isn't simply Cristian who betrays everyone he knows, but it is everyone subjected to this life in Romania. Everyone betrays each other, without so much of a choice. They keep secrets to protect themselves or their loved ones, partaking in questionable acts they wouldn't normally do if they were not stuck in these circumstances.

Sepetys leaves some chapters on a bit of a mysterious cliff-hanger. I'm not sure if I enjoyed Cristian's “I should've seen it in hindsight” or “I didn't know it until...” type of thoughts. I kept waiting to see the big reveal, only to be left unsatisfied. We don't really know until towards the end of the book, especially the epilogue. The ending feels unsatisfactory, and there isn't a specific closure we get or Cristian gets (in-book). But reading Sepetys' last author's note changed my perspective of the ending. Closure isn't what everyone can get in real life, and questions can be left unanswered forever. The fact that Cristian can even seek closure is much more than what others can have. Even if closure is from someone he truly hates, who changed the entire trajectory of his life, Cristian still chooses to do so. The regime no longer controls him. He has a choice, and he can finally make one on his own.

If you're looking for a silly and mindless rom-com that plays into the fake-dating trope, then yes, this book is for you. If you're looking for a compelling female character, an appealing love interest, and a plot that has substance, then no, this is sadly not for you.

I wish I liked this book, but I do not. Even though it was a fairly easy read and the premise was up my alley, it was just so frustrating to read through because of how incessantly annoying Olive is. Her logic makes no sense at all, like non-consensually kissing and sexually assaulting the random person in a hallway so your friend could back off your dating life? I don't know, how about talking to your so-called best friend about that?

As an adult woman, she has zero backbone, integrity, and respect for herself. I understand how insecurities and imposter syndrome can feed our internal cycle of hate towards ourselves, lowering our self-esteem and devaluing our self-worth. Olive is supposed to come off as relatable to readers simply because she has insecurities that makes her an imperfect and flawed person. Yet, it so hard to find her likeable because she has no character development at all. She spends the entire book berating and doubting herself on whether she is worthy of a spot in academia and whether she is a likeable romantic interest (for Adam). It's just so frustrating to sit through 350 pages of a woman who refuses to grow up and take matters into her own hands, who refuses to stand up for herself even when confronted by a terrible, disgusting person. And worse yet, all of her problems are constantly resolved by a man whom she even calls her “knight in black armor”. It was such a cringeworthy and eye-rolling line.

The long-harboring crush that Adam has towards Olive was plain creepy and not cute at all. You're telling me a 31 year-old (established professor) crushed on a 23 year-old (post-undergrad, incoming grad) after one chance encounter, and kept crushing on her for 3 years? There's an underlying power dynamic here in both age and career/professionalism that can't be ignored, no matter how respectful and patient Adam is or how they're both consenting adults. Additionally, they're both emotionally inadequate to be in an intimate relationship with each other - one is emotionally stunted (Adam) and the other is emotionally immature (Olive). I also could not stand the way they spoke to each other; their banter lacked substance, continuously making the same jokes/jabs at each other as if they don't actually know each other that well. I honestly could not feel any romantic chemistry between these two.

That smut scene... I get that this was originally a fanfic and I can see this exact scene in a fanfic I'd typically read, but I am just so tired of the inexperienced young woman x experienced older man trope. It just feeds even more into their power imbalance. Also, it was so weird when Adam said “You can take it” like sir... you are not the one taking it, please wait for her to say yes or no.

The premise and message Alyssa Cole talks about is great, but I am not convinced by the execution. Half of the book is slow exposition, ballooned by numerous background neighborhood characters that I had a hard time keeping track of (I wonder if that is more a commentary of me though, an outsider peeking into a neighborhood that isn't mine, not getting to truly know about these other people beyond the main protagonists? Hmm).

When Sydney and Theo finally connect the dots with the bad guys, I became so confused because I felt like it was almost... obvious that everything is connected to the Big Bad. Like didn't Sydney already uncover this before? Then it became even more confusing about what Sydney and Theo already knew vs. what they were discovering in their research. Also, the ending where the neighbor reveals he's kinda known all along there were other incidents like this in other cities... why didn't he mention this before? I don't know, everything to me started to fall apart after the community garden and felt like they turned into convenient plot points to reach the ending, which was just a bizarre, unrealistic, and out of place action movie. The villains felt so cartoonishly evil, the “resolution” was so abrupt and left me wondering about the consequences. Also kind of ridiculous is how did the neighbors know where and how to find them? It was just too convenient that the entire neighborhood seemingly had a “backup plan” to find and save them in the hospital.

I was fine with the dual perspectives at first, but wanted to throw the book at the wall because of Sydney's doubts towards Theo during the last 1/3. It would have been a bigger satisfying thriller if the book was told entirely in Sydney's perspective as we build on her suspicions and distrust. As readers, we sorta trust Theo because we know his thoughts; he hasn't been lying or disingenuous so far, and it wouldn't fit if it was suddenly revealed that he's a lying first POV narrator (but this is a thriller, any twist could happen). But then seeing the whiplash of emotions in Sydney's perspective, it was like come on... he's on your side.

As for the writing... I guess it's just not my taste, like I don't need all these extraneous details that feel like overstimulation... do I need to know about the ugly sandals this guy is wearing? Not really.

The setup is great, the message is great, but the book feels a little ridiculous.

A 3.95 for me. It's a really thrilling book that I enjoyed, I kept turning the pages to find out what happens next. Up until the reveal and final execution in the last few chapters, which gets absolutely bonkers in a really unrealistic way that put me off, and it overall felt really abrupt. I don't know how Chiamaka and Devon can trust anyone after all the traumatic city-wide shit they went through.. and more importantly, I was rooting for the sapphics

10 pages into a book and I'm already crying??

I've had this sitting on my shelf for the past few months. My friend highly praised it and became a fan of his work, so I thought it might be as life-changing for me.

However, I did not expect my eyes to water just from the first page.

I don't know WHAT exactly it is. It's a combination of knowing that it's an extremely vulnerable, heartbreaking book about his complicated relationship with his mom, the Vietnamese immigrant parent x American child aspect (I can 100% relate to), and the fact that his mom will/has passed away. It's the first time a book has made me viscerally cry like this, snot and all, and I had to put it down.

It kept making me think about my own parents and their difficult lives, my future without them, and knowing that I don't have such strong childhood memories with them, or even such strong ones now. Also, I feel like I'm kinda mourning the fact that my parents don't really have hobbies of their own now. It's mostly just housework, Youtube and TV, and it makes me sad that they didn't have as much of a chance to do and be whatever they wanted to be, and there's not much interest now.

I am so upset and MAD this book got me like this just from 10 pages. In the end, I was unable to finish it, too afraid of experiencing the pain and emotions again. It's a tough poetic read, and I didn't end up finishing it. Maybe one day, but I'm not that into poetic writing.

This was the first Vietnamese-oriented book I've read, and I am left with some mixed feelings. I liked that it's unapologetically Vietnamese: it never once glosses over or censors anything about the Vietnamese refugee experience, nor what it means to be a young teen girl in Communist Vietnam. The story explores how it affects/separates families, what happens to the diaspora, the scars/memories they have. My parents were both Vietnamese refugees during the same era and I felt like I could better understand their experiences as immigrants during an uncertain and dangerous time, how treacherous that journey must have been.

I loved the use of Vietnamese phoentics and how Lai cleverly incorporates an “interpreter” counterpart in Leeroy. Not only does Leeroy's interpretation helps the readers, but also shows someone who cares, listens to, and understands Hằng despite their language barrier and cultural differences. They had a sweet friendship.

However, the story gets a bit grating. While I empathize with Hằng, her stubbornness makes her quite unlikeable. Though, her stubbornness is born from the need of survival and desperation to be reunited with her last piece of family - the mindset to not be a “pushover” and to be resilient is something that a person like Hằng (an immigrant, a foreigner, a survivor) needs to be.

The writing took a poetic metaphorical approach, which I didn't quite enjoy. It was a bit too much. Additionally, the story and summary did not match up - it is poised as a “must run away from my uncle and survive” story but that does not really happen at all.

First read this in high school for summer reading. I enjoyed it the first time but I don't think it fully sunk in as to WHY we were reading it in the first place. Now though, I can see why they chose this, simply because of Cashore's ability to build a fantasy world centered around a strong female protagonist. Someone who is physically strong and mentally strong, and cares deeply for justice and those she cares about. Katsa could've been molded and manipulated into becoming someone so evil and vile and twisted, just like Leck, who used his powers to abuse those around him. But the fact that Katsa's very own moral core is so strong, that she breaks free from Randa's control, takes charge of her own life, starts her own special inter-kingdom Council to help others... She's such an amazing and thoughtful character that you can't help but enjoy reading.

Though, I think the driving force of Graceling has to be Katsa's relationship with Po. It is built so gradually, where they learn to rely on, understand, and trust each other. They respect each other and pine for each other. They have such a deep connection and balance one another so well. Katsa never had interest in love, until she found someone who understood and connected with her, not even realizing she's fallen in love either. Their devotion and their tension was just chef's kiss. It's so nice to read a healthy relationship dynamic that depicts both of them as equals, where they TREAT each other as equals.

I came in with high expectations for Scythe and it did not disappoint at all. Scythe paints a distorted utopian landscape of a human society that has plateaued after reaching its “final” stage of technological advancement - immortality and societal equity - which now requires Scythes, or death bringers, to control population growth. Natural death is obsolete, while unnatural deaths at the hands of Scythes is the new normal.

We follow Rowan and Citra through their apprenticeship journeys, where we learn about the different philosophies of their mentors and what they think is the purpose and morality of having/being sanctioned professional killers. Compassion and sadism lie on opposite ends of the philosophical spectrum, and we witness how a “highly moral” organization falls back into the same cycle of human nature and the supposedly eradicated vices of an evolved society. Holding onto one's individual morality and integrity becomes a challenge when faced by a persuasive cult of personality and its hedonistic narcissism.

While Scythe focuses a lot on the politics of the Scythedom, it has made me question my outlook on life and the future ahead of us. It made me think, what is the true meaning and purpose of life if you could live forever in a perfect utopia? What would happen to us once we become stagnant and stationary in our ventures?

I realized that the fragility of life actually brings sustenance and meaning to it. We do not want pain and suffering in our lives, yet the hope on the other side provides us something to look forward to and work towards. No, I am not trying to romanticize life's difficulties or societal inequities, and yes, I recognize my immense privilege that allows me to live comfortably and securely. But I now understand that the hope for better days, with the drive to progress and improve and change, motivates us in our lives and makes us cherish our lives a little more.

The premise was intriguing at first. However, the characters became a repetitive annoyance. Sebastian spends the entire book worried about Helene (Juliet), always in his cautious, heartache melancholy. He was a far more compelling character than Helene though. Helene has no distinctive characteristics that make her likeable - bland, unoriginal, damsel in distress vibes before and after meeting Sebastian. 70% of the book both characters repeating the same thing - "Why is he acting like xyz?", "Am I really the love of his life, Juliet?", and "I have to protect her, I have to distance myself". I really did not like how there were several back-to-back chapters that switched between Helene and Sebastian's POVs about the same situation. The big bad in this book is defeated with Sebastian's copious, unquestionable wealth and connections - it felt so silly and reminded me too much of rich, old vampires with their pretty playthings.

Save your time, skip this book.