books Archives - Page 20 of 64

Yzabel / October 30, 2016

Review: Doctor Who: The American Adventures

Doctor Who: The American Adventures by Justin Richards

My rating: [rating=1]

Blurb::

Travel through time and space with the Twelfth Doctor in these six brand new adventures, set in a host of locations across the US and eras from throughout US history.

An invisible spacecraft turns up at the Battle of New Orleans, an alien presence is detected at the 1944 D-Day landings, and ghosts take over New York’s subway tunnels as they’re being dug in the early 1900s…

Review:

[I received a copy of this novel through NetGalley.]

This was advertised in the Comics category, so I thought it’d be a comics, but it’s actually a collection of short stories. Ah, well.

Not sure what to think about it, really. I found it… just bland, to be honest. On the bright side, none of the stories come with glaring plot holes or annoying sidekicks, but on the other hand, none left me with a lasting impression either.

The main problems here for me are:
– The characterisation of the Doctor. The stories are supposed to feature Capaldi’s Doctor; it could be just any generic Doctor, though, the way he acts and is described. I could find no defining feature (even the eyebrows seemed weak!).
– Most of the stories’s endings are disappointing: too abrupt, or close to nonexistant. The fifth story, for instance, leaves a lot of things unsaid. The least I expect in a story about an assassin trying to off their target is the assassin’s motives, or who’s hired them. Here, nothing. It just ends.

“All That Glitters”: Forgettable. The plot is OK, but there’s are no surprised here, it’s all lvery classic, quickly solved, and a bit boring.

“Off the Trail”: This one had more of a creepy feeling, the “something’s wrong but we don’t know yet what” feeling. Still, the “enemy” was done with too quickly.

“Ghosts of New York”: Interesting theme, boring execution.

“Taking the Plunge”: A bit better. Not complicated, a simple enough plot to follow, but with more oompfh than the previous stories.

“Spectator Sport”: I seriously didn’t see the point. Tourism on battlefields in different eras is ethically bad. OK. I was more interested anyway in the crime story wrapped in it; however, the latter fizzled and petered out. (See above about this.)

“Base of Operations”: Considering its theme, it would have deserved a more complex resolution: I thought of all the stories, this was the most promising, the one with the strongest premise. At the end the Doctor was more like himself, with his determined stance of defending Earth and making sure the enemy’s aware of it.

Conclusion: 1.5 stars. I don’t recommend it, it is of little interest.

Yzabel / October 29, 2016

Review: The Radium Girls

The Radium Girls: They paid with their lives. Their final fight was for justice. by Kate Moore

My rating: [rating=4]

Blurb:

Ordinary women in 1920s America.

All they wanted was the chance to shine.

Be careful what you wish for.

‘The first thing we asked was, “Does this stuff hurt you?” And they said, “No.” The company said that it wasn’t dangerous, that we didn’t need to be afraid.’

1917. As a war raged across the world, young American women flocked to work, painting watches, clocks and military dials with a special luminous substance made from radium. It was a fun job, lucrative and glamorous – the girls themselves shone brightly in the dark, covered head to toe in the dust from the paint. They were the radium girls.
As the years passed, the women began to suffer from mysterious and crippling illnesses. The very thing that had made them feel alive – their work – was in fact slowly killing them: they had been poisoned by the radium paint. Yet their employers denied all responsibility. And so, in the face of unimaginable suffering – in the face of death – these courageous women refused to accept their fate quietly, and instead became determined to fight for justice.

Drawing on previously unpublished sources – including diaries, letters and court transcripts, as well as original interviews with the women’s relatives – The Radium Girls is an intimate narrative account of an unforgettable true story. It is the powerful tale of a group of ordinary women from the Roaring Twenties, who themselves learned how to roar.

Review:

[I received a copy of this novel through NetGalley.]

This book was fairly difficult for me to read. Fascinating, but difficult, because of its theme (and I must say immediately, this is entirely personal): on the one hand, it was really interesting; on the other hand, having teeth/jaw problems myself, reading some of the symptoms the girls manifested triggered my own fears (even though, obviously, my own problems are totally minor compared to theirs!). And that was before the book got to the cancer parts. It made up for very strange reading sessions, where I’d pick up my Kindle, read a couple of pages, leave it, go back to it 2 minutes later because I still wanted to know what would follow, rinse and repeat. Very weird—but, as I mentioned, and to be fair, entirely personal.

One may wonder why I picked this book, knowing my fears about part of its themes—obviously I should’ve expected the latter. This said, having previously read a couple of articles about the Radium Girls, I simply wanted to know more: about when exactly it happened, over how many years, how they finally got justice, more details about the hurdles, and so on. And in that regard, the book definitely doesn’t disappoint. Or perhaps it will an actual historian of that period and of that specific theme, but let’s be honest, I doubt the audience for such works is entirely made up of professional researchers anyway. So there’s much to learn in these pages about the Radium Girls, and it provides much more than a mere introduction to the topic.

The writing style was one of the things that made the book interesting to read, by humanising the accounts of what happened to the Radium Girls: I doubt a dry, clinical style would have worked here, all the more because there were quite a few pages dedicated to describing symptoms of radium poisoning and court sessions. You can feel that the author was genuinely passionate about her topic, also in a more literary way, and wanted to show the women involved as real people, with their lives, husbands, families, and (quashed) hopes for the future, and not just as examples of the consequences of radium poisoning. This is even more poignant because it happened in the Roaring Twenties, with the glamour and glitz I think they project in many people’s minds: the girls appeared at first as so young, in love with life and dancing and going out, and it was so easy to picture them as happy-go-lucky flappers who never deserved such a fate (not that anyone deserves it, mind you).

This gave a humane dimension to what could otherwise have been a bit boring to read, I suppose—and provided for reading sections, instead of huge info-dumps. On the downside, I found this style sometimes cheesy; it worked in some chapters/paragraphs, it didn’t in others, when it felt like the author was “laying it a bit too thick”, so to speak. But that’s a minor complain on my part.

Also, since I got the ebook version for review, I didn’t get to see the picture that are inserted in the printed book . Too bad for me.

Conclusion: 4 stars. If you’re like me, this may trigger a few fears, yet the book and the light it sheds on a not-so-well-known part of US history made it all worth it.

Yzabel / October 25, 2016

Review: Orphans of the Carnival

Orphans of the Carnival by Carol Birch

My rating: [rating=2]

Blurb:

A life in the spotlight will keep anyone hidden.

Julia Pastrana is the singing and dancing marvel from Mexico, heralded on tours across nineteenth-century Europe as much for her talent as for her rather unusual appearance. Yet few can see past the thick hair that covers her: she is both the fascinating toast of a Governor’s ball and the shunned, revolting, unnatural beast, to be hidden from children and pregnant women.

But what is her wonderful and terrible link to Rose, collector of lost treasures in an attic room in modern-day south London? In this haunting tale of identity, love and independence, these two lives will connect in unforgettable ways.

Review:

[I received a copy of this novel through NetGalley.]

This novel is based on the story of Julia Pastrana, a perforrmer and “freak” who lived in the 19th century; more than the typical “woman with a beard”, Julia was covered in hair, and had a facial condition that made her look like an ape. Throughout the story, we get to see here leave her hometown and the house where she had lived, to perform with a troupe, then with independent managers. More than a mere attraction, Julia sang and danced beautifully, something other characters find both fascinating and troubling: after all, is she really a human being, or merely an animal?

I found this attraction mixed with revulsion fascinating, for all the questions it raised. Most of the story is told from Julia’s point of view, and there’s no doubt she’s a human being, period, with her own thoughts, feelings, dignity, and desires in life. She may appear as a little passive at first (her fellow performers have to remind her to get a contract, not just take everything her manager send her way, and she let herself be prodded by doctors and scientists), but she reveals herself quickly as full of willpower: leaving the people she’s always known for the big unknown, and especially accepting her condition as something normal, something that’s part of her, while making use of skills that, in about everybody, would certainly garner admiration (singing, dancing, playing the guitar, acting). There’s some contradiction in her character, true; on the other hand, this is just part of the human condition—so many of us are creatures of contradiction.

But the world isn’t so kind to her, and while a lot of people are ready to pay just to see her, or are her friends (Ezra, Friederike…), some others don’t hesitate to criticise her, judge her as amoral, or as an abnormality that should be kept under lock and not shown to people. This definitely raises the matter of the “freaks” (Victorian period) and how they were perceived, not to mention what may easily be forgotten: that those people were, well, people first. In this way, the novel can be shocking—thus reflecting a very Victorian feeling, with “well-thinking people” judging those who’re different, while at the same time never judging themselves for gawking. (Also, there’s the matter of Theo’s decision later.)

This highlighted the tragedy of Julia’s life: people came to see her, but less for her skills than for her appearance. She was invited to social gatherings, but less for her personality than for others to “see the freak”. People talked about her relationship, but less out of happiness for the couple than to whisper in their backs about “does he does it with -that-?” It was all very sad, all the more because Julia can never free herself from her appearance, which in turns is limiting (she can’t go out without a veil, for instance, and in spite of travelling a lot, she doesn’t get to really see that many places).

Theo, well… Theo was less interesting. Mostly his character was of a mercantile quality (and at least he’s honest about that), and there was never any mystery about the part money/fame played in their relationship. Still, when things were told from his point of view, they never seemed as rich and interesting as when they were from Julia’s.

Julia’s story would have been a 3/4 stars. However, a few things prevented me from really enjoying it. First, Theo’s voice (as said, not very enthralling, especially when it dealt with his ambiguous feelings for her); I kept thinking that I would’ve wanted to see this relationship told only through Julia’s eyes, perhaps because there would’ve been more than a seed of wondering whether he truly loved her or just took advantage of the situation? Hard to tell. Also, the fact that Julia doesn’t stay that long with other performers, and apart from a couple of encounters with Ezra, Berniece and Cato later, mostly everything revolves around Julia and Theo, therefore: not much potential for various interactions.

Finally, the Rose narrative: I disliked that one, none of the characters were particularly appealing, and that story was only connected by a lose thread to Julia’s. I had expected something more… intense? More closely related? The way it was, it brought nothing to Julia’s story, and in the end my only feeling was “why did I bother reading those parts?”

Conclusion: 2.5 stars. Julia’s narrative didn’t need to be bogged down by Rose’s.

Yzabel / October 20, 2016

Review: Death By Cliché

Death by Cliché by Bob Defendi

My rating: [rating=3]

Blurb:

To Sartre, Hell was other people. To the game designer, Hell is the game.

Damico writes games for a living. When called in to rescue a local roleplaying game demo, Damico is shot in the head by a loony fan. He awakens in a game. A game full of hackneyed tropes and clichéd plots. A game he was there to save, run by the man who murdered him just moments ago. A game that has just become world-swap fantasy. Damico, to his horror, has become the heart of the cliché.

Set on their quest in a scene that would make Ed Wood blush, Damico discovers a new wrinkle. As a game designer, he is a creative force in this broken place. His presence touches the two-dimensional inhabitants. First a peasant, then a barmaid, then his character’s own father…all come alive.

But the central question remains. Can Damico escape, or is he trapped in this nightmare? Forever.

Wait, what? This is a comedy? Ignore all that. Death by Cliché is a heartwarming tale of catastrophic brain damage. Share it with someone you love. Or like. Or anyone at all. Buy the book.

Based on a true story.

Review:

[I received a copy of this book from the publisher.]

I’m on the fence regarding this novel, as some parts were fun, but some others made fun of gamers in a way that I would expect from someone who doesn’t play—as in, clichés that weren’t so funny as demeaning.

Damico, game designer, finds himself trapped in a tabletop RPG scenario, as a non-player character, after he got shot in the head by a loony Dungeon Master. (Which in itself is a bad cliché already, but that may be me being a wee bit sensitive after years trying to debunk myths in my hometown, like “oh you’re a gamer, so you must be weird and deranged”. Meh.) It’s only a game, right? Right. So it doesn’t matter if all those cardboard characters—peasants, the Evil Overlord, the buxom tavern wench…—get to die, because they’re just ink on paper, or in the head of the game master. Except they’re not, not exactly; and conversely, if they are, does it mean that Damico is dead, and nothing more than ink as well?

And this is one of the strong points of “Death By Cliché”. Sure, it’s nothing the literary world hasn’t seen before (what is real, what defines reality, what defines humanity…), yet it doesn’t matter: it remains an interesting theme. The humorous approach doesn’t detract from this kind of “serious” questioning, and at the same time is enjoyable, because, well, it’s fun.

The clichés I’m a bit undecided about, as mentioned previously. The book is packed with them, which is totally expected with such a title and premise, and some of them work really well. If you are, or used to be, a gamer, odds are you’ve encountered a lot of them, whether places, situations or people. It pokes fun at the tired fantasy tropes (the evil lord, the long days of travel—sorry, I’m not a “travel fantasy” person— the fabled Artefact, the cliché large-breasted tavern girls, and so on). Plenty of themes to play with, and it’s obvious the author had lots of fun with those. Also, the feeling of reliving some old gaming sessions, or discussing those with an old friend. I’m positive that every gamer, at some point, even the most serious/storytelling-type/roleplaying ones, gave in at some point to some jolly good cliché or silly action. This is part of what makes such games funny, after all.

Some tropes didn’t work as well for me; but then, they’re clearly the ones that tend to make too much fun of gamers in general, and can easily be construed as more derogatory than mere fun. You know, the “oh but it’s just for fun, don’t get angry” thing, to cover a hurtful comment/joke. That’s the kind of the impression I got.

The writing style was often tongue-in-cheek, sometimes deliberately breaking the fourth wall. I tend to like this, so it made me smile. I couldn’t care less about the chapter quotes, though; the first three or so were cool, the rest quickly became tedious.

Conclusion: As expected, a lot of clichés, that may have been exploited better; but all in all, it was a fun ride.

Enregistrer

Yzabel / October 16, 2016

Review: Curioddity

Curioddity by Paul Jenkins

My rating: [rating=3]

Blurb:

Will Morgan is a low-budget detective after quitting his job and hardly ever has any work. When one day a mysterious man named Mr. Dinsdale, curator of an even more mysterious Curioddity Museum (a museum that houses legendary relics of history), visits him and asks him to find a wooden box made of teak, with a mother of pearl inlay that contains the world’s largest sample of levity, Wil thinks it is all a joke. He accepts the task and before long finds a worthy substitute to meet Mr. Dinsdale’s specifications. What Wil soon learns, however, is that there is a whole other world out there, a world he can only see by learning to un-see things, and in this world there are people who want to close the Curioddity museum down. With the help of his new girlfriend Lucy, Wil will do everything he can to deliver on his promise to help Mr. Dinsdale keep the Curioddity Museum in business.

Review:

[I received a copy of this book through NetGalley, in exchange for an honest review.]

Hard one to rate… I found it full of good ideas, but the pacing threw me off, except after the 70% mark or so, when it really picked up.

The beginning was tricky: slow and “dull”, which was fitting as it perfectly reflected the daily drudgery that is Wil Morgan’s life. So in a way, it was perfectly adequate, even though it made it difficult to get into the story fast. Wil is, simply put, a man who used to dream when he was a child, encouraged by his mother who taught him to look at the world differently; yet after his mother’s death, banality caught up to him, this time with his father’s support, the latter wanting a secure and normal life for his son. Of course, when the mysterious Mr Dinsdale waltzes into Wil’s bleak existence, everything starts to change…

There is no blatant revelation here, or very complex world building with a whole underground, supernatural society and its many rules and denizens. As far as urban fantasy goes, it’s relatively light, with the magical/unexplained side of things more touched upon than delved into. In itself, it’s not bad at all: it has a quaint charm, that also makes it easy to discover all those strange occurrences at the same time the main character does. It’s all about little things, and perhaps they’re not even so extraordinary, just less mundane than we’re used to, and able to become fascinating if we decide to let them do. Crates that move only when you’re not looking at them. Perpetual Motion artefacts. Machines rumoured to have been created by Da Vinci himself. Weird contraptions and items that “do stuff” as long as you don’t worry too much about it. The Museum of Curioddities has a lot of such objects, and every addition contributes to making Wil’s life more and more unusual, little bit by little bit. (Also, the Evil Swiss Clock.)

And even though it seems like nonsense, all of this, this little world, has a logic of its own. Nonsense ends up making as much sense as mundane life—perhaps even more, at times. So what if the villain is pretty wacky, and the light romance kind of predictable in a world full of unpredictability? Well, it doesn’t really matter.

What prevented me from enjoying this book more were mostly:
– The pacing: even after Wil’s life takes a turn for the oddest, it still felt somewhat… dull in places. I guess I had expected more in that regard.
– Although the writing in general is good, I thought there were too many “witty lines” and bizarre metaphors. A couple thrown in from time to time is all right, and fun, but too many will ruin the fun, so to speak. It was enough to pull me out of my reading; it may just be me, though.

Conclusion: apart from those (jarring enough for me, perhaps not for another reader), it was good in terms of whimsical/somewhat nonsensical magical realism.

Yzabel / October 11, 2016

Review: Knights of the Borrowed Dark

Knights of the Borrowed Dark by Dave Rudden

My rating: [rating=3]

Blurb:

Denizen Hardwick is an orphan, and his life is, well, normal. Sure, in storybooks orphans are rescued from drudgery when they discover they are a wizard or a warrior or a prophesied king. But this is real life—orphans are just kids without parents. At least that’s what Denizen thought…

On a particularly dark night, the gates of Crosscaper Orphanage open to a car that almost growls with power. The car and the man in it retrieve Denizen with the promise of introducing him to a long-lost aunt. But on the ride into the city, they are attacked. Denizen soon learns that monsters can grow out of the shadows. And there is an ancient order of knights who keep them at bay. Denizen has a unique connection to these knights, but everything they tell him feels like a half-truth. If Denizen joins the order, is he fulfilling his destiny, or turning his back on everything his family did to keep him alive?

Review:

[I received a copy of this book through NetGalley, in exchange for an honest review.]

An enjoyable middle-grade novel, even though not the most original ever. Denizen (not the best of names, to be honest) is an orphan, grew up in an orphanage, has never known his parents, and nobody has information about them. But on his 13th birthday, an aunt he was never told about offers to have him home for a few days… and perhaps more?

After this start somewhat common to a lot of books in this category, and somewhat slow as well, things picked up. Denizen is introduced to a new world, and the author isn’t shy of showing that world’s darkness, literally (the Tenebrous) as well as figuratively: the magic has its toll, and is of the kind you need to use scarcely, otherwise it burns its users. Granted, I found the world-building a bit shoddy in places—great concepts, like the Endless King, the Emissary and Os Reges (the latter were beautiful and haunting, in their own twisted, creepy ways), but the Knights seemed to hold little enough information about their own Order and history, which felt odd. I could sense there was much more to develop here, yet was unsure whether it’d be in a next novel in the series, or something that just… wasn’t too thought-out.

In general, the characters were enjoyable. The Knights all had their little quirks, and Grey especially was a character I warmed up to very quickly. Denizen, too, in spite of some childish-pouting moments (he’s 13, after all), was overall a lovable kid. He’s ready to fight for his friends and even for strangers, yet also as savvy enough to obey orders and not get in the way, not too much that is, where I would have expected too stupid to live moments. And when he does “get in the way”, usually it’s because someone’s life is at stake and there’s no other apparent solution, since trying to find help would take too much time. There was one specific moment when his decision felt stupid; this said, it was prompted by wanting to help someone he trusts a lot, so it makes it more… understandable? It wasn’t some silly reason like “wanting to impress the others”, it stemmed from a genuine desire to help.

I hope Simon will be more developed in the next novels, as he seems interesting too but obviously couldn’t be devoted much time to, being at the orphanage and all. Also, I feared some romance with Abigail, but for now she seems to be more the potential friend than potential love interest, and it’d be great if things stayed like that, because I can’t sense much between Denizen and her in terms of “romance chemistry”.

Where this novel fell flat for me, apart from the world building, was in how its characters, albeit sympathetic, weren’t given enough spotlight. Especially the Knights (Darcie, D’Aubigny, Fuller Jack). Getting to know them better would help in making me feel closer, more involved. Finally, some twists were of the expected kind, and not always handled as well as they could have been.

However, in general, it was a good read, that I went through like a breeze. I think that in terms of “fantasy, magic and adventure books for a middle-grade audience”, it will keep its intended readers entertained. 3 stars, going on 3.5.

Yzabel / October 6, 2016

Review: Eight Rivers of Shadow

Eight Rivers of Shadow by Leo Hunt

My rating: [rating=2]

Blurb:

Luke Manchett used to be one of the most popular boys at school.
That was before his necromancer father died and left him a host of vengeful ghosts that wanted him dead.
Now everyone thinks he’s a freak.
To make matters worse, the mysterious new girl at school is actually the daughter of his father’s deadliest enemy…
And she’s out for revenge.

Review:

[I received a copy of this book through NetGalley, in exchange for an honest review.]

Alas, I didn’t enjoy this second instalment as much as I did the first. It lacked the character dynamics, the spark I had felt at the beginning of this series.

I think the main reason is the way Luke and Elza are rather isolated from the others throughout the novel, even from their parents (who apparently don’t even care what their kids do?). Elza’s family pops in on one page only, Luke’s mother is faring better health-wise but still not very present, Luke’s former friends don’t talk to him anymore… So mostly it revolved around two, maximum three people at a time, and in turn, it shed light on the fact those characters weren’t that much developed. It would have been a great opportunity to do so, and it wasn’t used as such, and I found this too bad.

Another annoying thing was the magic itself: here, too, this book provided huge opportunities of developing it, more specifically of showing Luke growing into it and learning more. However, for the most part, he either didn’t want anything to do with it, or bumbled from one mistake to the other (when he was warned about what mistakes not to make!) while more savvy characters saved the day. Not unexpected, sure, but frustrating no matter what. Or perhaps it is my bias towards necromancy speaking?

On the other hand, the novel shows an actual foray into the land of the dead, which is definitely not unexpected where magic of the necromancy type is concerned! This catabasis was very welcome as far as I’m concerned. And ghosts fighting each other. That’s cool. (I would really have wanted to know more about the Widow!)

Also present in this second book: themes that make you think and difficult choices to make, especially when it comes to helping your loved ones vs. the sacrifices you may have to make. Again, this is about necromancy, not kittens and giggles, right?

Conclusion: Still interesting, only I didn’t feel invested much in the characters, and Luke disappointed me both with his magic and with his borderline stupid decisions.

Yzabel / September 27, 2016

Review: The Screaming Staircase

The Screaming Staircase by Jonathan Stroud

My rating: [rating=2]

Blurb:

When the dead come back to haunt the living, Lockwood & Co. step in . . .

For more than fifty years, the country has been affected by a horrifying epidemic of ghosts. A number of Psychic Investigations Agencies have sprung up to destroy the dangerous apparitions.

Lucy Carlyle, a talented young agent, arrives in London hoping for a notable career. Instead she finds herself joining the smallest, most ramshackle agency in the city, run by the charismatic Anthony Lockwood. When one of their cases goes horribly wrong, Lockwood & Co. have one last chance of redemption. Unfortunately this involves spending the night in one of the most haunted houses in England, and trying to escape alive.

Review:

[I received a copy of this book through NetGalley, in exchange for an honest review.]

An entertaining book, even though it didn’t blow my mind as I would’ve expected from the author of the “Bartimaeus” series.

In a United Kingdom where the dead tend to come back fairly often as ghosts—whose touch is lethal to the living—agencies have sprung up. Gathering all kinds of young people with the ability to see or hear spectres, under the supervision of adults, these groups patrol cities at nights and investigate various hauntings, in order to send ghosts back to the grave. Lockwood & Co. is one of such agencies. And so, when young agent Lucy Carlyle finds herself looking for employment in London, she applies for a job there… an unusual one even for her line of work, since Lockwood’s doesn’t have any supervisor, and his two other youth are a little on the reckless side. Well, especially Lockwood himself.

This trio of characters follows a typical dynamic (2 boys, 1 girl), with banter and sometimes tense relationships. Lockwood tends to act before thinking, and appears as too easy-go-lucky at times; George is the librarian, the one who remembers they should do their research before investigating; and Lucy, the only one of the three with the ability to hear ghosts and potentially communicate with them, is somewhere in between: more thoughtful at first, yet possessed with instincts that sometimes cause her to make strange decisions. All in all, this dynamic highlighted potential flaws in the team (Lucy didn’t tell them immediately why she went to London, Lockwood doesn’t talk of his family or why there are no adults supervising his agency…) as well as room for growth (learning to trust each other, among other things).

The descriptions of ghosts, places and hauntings are vivid enough, and it’s very easy to picture every happening. They convey an idea of a darker London, whose mists may not only be mere pollution or weather-related, but also announce the coming of ghosts. The story as a whole, a bit like in the Bartimaeus series, has a semi-Victorian feeling: the time is now, yet readers may find themselves forgetting this since the era itself isn’t so important (and the use of rapiers and iron filings could go well in a historical setting). This may or may not be a problem; personally, I quite liked it. The atmosphere throughout the novel, though, wasn’t exactly horrific for me; I’m not sure if I could consider it the right amount of “scary” for a ghost story presented as such.

On the downside:

– The plot felt too disjointed when it came to its two main parts. I’m not sure why exactly, nor what could have made it better, but I got this feeling that the cause-and-effect relationships were forced together, instead of one appearing as logically following the other.
– I could have done without the fat-shaming (towards George). I don’t know if this was supposed to make Lockwood (tall and thin) look better, or Lucy appear superior, but it achieved neither. I really don’t see any point to that.
– I mentioned the characters’ dynamics and room for growth, however by the end of the book I thought this was lacking a bit, and the team didn’t feel like a team as much as I had expected after all the “surviving together” (the fire, the burglary, the Red Room…). The relationship between Lucy, George and Lockwood remained a wee bit… flat?

Conclusion: 2.5 stars. I enjoyed it on the surface, as light reading, but I’m not particularly eager to pick up the second book either.

Yzabel / September 26, 2016

Review: Golem

Golem by Lorenzo Ceccotti

My rating: [rating=2]

Blurb:

Set in a future, post-Eurozone Italy, entrenched in a bizarre form of hyper-capitalism, GOLEM follows a young boy kidnapped during a political protest gone sour, who learns that he has the power to not only change the city, but reality itself. This intensely imaginative political-sci-fi graphic novel is a visual tour de force, created by contemporary design icon Lorenzo Ceccotti, better known as LRNZ, whose design-influenced illustration is a lush, fluid blend of manga masters like KATSUHIRO OTOMO with western comic icons like JOSH MIDDLETON, creating a style that is wholly unique and absolutely breathtaking.

Review:

[I got a copy through NetGalley, in exchange for an honest review.]

Some pretty good artwork in places, although I expected something more original, especially considering the length of this volume.

The basic idea in itself is, I’d say, typical enough of dystopian stories: country (here, Italy) in the not-too-far future, dominated by an apparent benevolent ruler (president Oudeis) who’s actually a tyrant, with “the masses” living day to day in blissful ignorance, smothered with all the latest technological toys and gizmos they could desire. Also a “terrorist”/”freedom fighters” group, because dystopian stories need that. All in all, terra cognita here, not bad, and not exceptional either.

The world depicted in this comics is interesting, and chilling, too, however it gave a strong Japanese vibe, and this felt a little strange. Lots of Japanese-sounding names (the Yoko brand, the Shorai “terrorist group”), aesthetics that clearly reminded me of quite a few cyberpunk/futuristic manga… Again, not bad per se, yet I couldn’t reconcile this vision with Italy. Not to say I expected stupid clichés here (nope, I didn’t want to see pasta everywhere, that’s just as bad as the French baguette as far as clichés go!), just… something that would’ve felt more European-centric?

The art was pretty good in some parts, though average in others, and most often dynamic: the fights looked and felt like fights, bodies in movement giving an impression of speed. As a work of art, as in painting/drawing, it was definitely interesting to look at.

The characters in general were sympathetic. Not unexpectedly at all, the rebels all have their quirks and cool tech and moves (cooking, hooked on computers, a sort of probabilities-projecting technology allowing them to predict their enemies’ moves by a couple of seconds…). However, I never got a real feeling for them, especially the two kids at the centre of it all.

Conclusion: In general, my impression was that of a story with good foundations, but not told as it would’ve deserved—both too long and too crammed considering its conspiracy aspect. The bland characters didn’t help.

Yzabel / September 23, 2016

Review: Gaslight & Grimm – Steampunk Faerie Tales

Gaslight & Grimm: Steampunk Faerie Tales by Danielle Ackley-McPhail

My rating: [rating=4]

Blurb:

Once Upon a Time, ageless tales were told from one generation to the next, filled with both wonders and warnings. Tales of handsome princes and wicked queens, of good-hearted folk and evil stepmothers. Tales of danger and caution and magic…classics that still echo in our hearts and memories even to this day, told from old, cherished books or from memory at Grandma’s knee.

Oh yes, tales have been told…but never quite like these. Journey with us through the pages of Gaslight and Grimm to discover timeless truths through lenses polished in the age of steam.

With tales by James Chambers, Christine Norris, Bernie Mojzes, Danny Birt, Jean Marie Ward, Jeff Young, Gail Z. and Larry N. Martin, Elaine Corvidae, David Lee Summers, Kelly A. Harmon, Jonah Knight, Diana Bastine, and Jody Lynn Nye.

Review:

[I got a copy through NetGalley, in exchange for an honest review.]

I found this anthology quite inspiring in general, and it left me with a better impression than anthologies generally do. I appreciated that most stories, while building upon the foundations of original tales, didn’t hesitate to stray from them at some point, instead of being “mere” retellings almost identical to their inspirations. For instance, the one inspired by “Rapunzel”.

The ones I liked best:
– “When Pigs Fly” (original story: The Three Little Pigs): airship and their badass captains, on a backdrop of Alliance vs. Rogues conflict. I was bound to like this one.
– “From the Horse’s Mouth” (The Goose Girl): a gritty retelling, that doesn’t shy away from the grim realities of a country at war.
– “The Giant Killer” (Jack the Giant Killer): with Jack being more of a Jane, with interesting devices and a tendency to get into trouble… but always with a certain style.

Remarks on a couple of other stories:
– “The (Steamy) Tale of Cinderella (Cinderella, obviously): set in a fleet gathered around the princely ship, where the fated ball is to be held. But the Prince isn’t just some charming vapid man, Cinderella is more interested in machines than in snagging a man, and there’s a nice LGBT dimension. I do regret, though, that the latter was presented a little abruptly, out of nowhere—there could have been so much more, instead of the (at first) traditional approach of shaming same-sex relationships. Fortunately Cinderella’s and the Prince’s decision is an interesting one.

– “The Hair Ladder”: I liked the different relationship dynamis between “Rapunzel” and “the witch”. I wasn’t convinced by the mother, however, as she was much too selfish and vain, and felt like a cardboard villain.

But overall, these stories were more 3 to 4 stars each than anything really bad. “The Walking House” (Baba Yaga) is probably my least favourite.