books Archives - Page 26 of 64

Yzabel / March 8, 2016

Review: The Shadow Queen

My rating: [rating=2]

Blurb:

Lorelai Diederich, crown princess and fugitive at large, has one mission: kill the wicked queen who took both the Ravenspire throne and the life of her father. To do that, Lorelai needs to use the one weapon she and Queen Irina have in common—magic. She’ll have to be stronger, faster, and more powerful than Irina, the most dangerous sorceress Ravenspire has ever seen.

In the neighboring kingdom of Eldr, when Prince Kol’s father and older brother are killed by an invading army of magic-wielding ogres, the second-born prince is suddenly given the responsibility of saving his kingdom. To do that, Kol needs magic—and the only way to get it is to make a deal with the queen of Ravenspire, promise to become her personal huntsman…and bring her Lorelai’s heart.

But Lorelai is nothing like Kol expected—beautiful, fierce, and unstoppable—and despite dark magic, Lorelai is drawn in by the passionate and troubled king. Fighting to stay one step ahead of the dragon huntsman—who she likes far more than she should—Lorelai does everything in her power to ruin the wicked queen. But Irina isn’t going down without a fight, and her final move may cost the princess the one thing she still has left to lose.

Review:

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

It’s been a while I received it, back when it was still an ARC, so I won’t comment about formatting and the few typos I found. It happens.

I’d deem it a decent “Snow White” retelling, in that it keeps its main themes (evil queen, princess fleeing in the forest, hunter sent to take her heart and coming back with an animal’s heart…) but thankfully veers away from the typical princess-in-distress trope—that one can get boring and tiring when there’s nothing else to the princess than “I’m pretty and in distress”. Lorelai had to learn to fend for herself, growing up in exile and always on the move, while also learning responsibility: towards the kingdom she has to reclaim one day, and towards her little brother Leo, whom she was entrusted to protect by her dying father. One may argue that if reclaiming the throne was so important, she’d have done it sooner; however, she was a child at the time, and waiting until she’s 17 is more logical than lame. In spite of what Gabril tells her at some point, I don’t think you should go fighting when you obviously have no chance of winning: it wouldn’t achieve anything in the end, except making you die before your time and ruining your people’s hopes. So I’m totally OK with that.

(I was less OK with what prompted Lorelai to more action, that is, one of the characters falling under the enemy’s blows. It was a funny character, whom I’d have liked to read more about, and it felt more like a cheap ploy than an appropriate “motivator”. Maybe that’s just me.)

So we have Lorelai, Leo and Gabril, and then Kol, Trugg and Jyn, the Draconi (half-human, half-dragons) trying to save their kingdom. To do so, Kol bargains with Irina, the Evil Queen, and that doesn’t end well for him. Naive and foolish little prince and princess, thinking they can deceive a deceiver. Ah, but something had to go wrong, right?

As expected (and in a way, it’s good, because unsufferable characters who don’t grow up are annoying), Lorelai has to take action, accept to use her magic instead of always hiding, and to wage war upon Irina. Her plans weren’t terribly twisted, but they weren’t the most idiotic ones either, as they mostly made sense: risky, yet calculated, and clearly aimed at weakening the enemy. Lorelai has a strategist’s streak, and she doesn’t attack anything or anywhere just for the sake of attacking.

I liked that Irina was made more of an evil character whose side of the story is never shown: she had her reasons, and we get a glimpses of them. Unfortunately, I had come to expect more in that regard, and in the end it was never truly “explained”—or, rather, her motives were explained on the surface, but I didn’t feel them as tangible, as something she really suffered for. There was jealousy, and her certainty of having been let down by her family, and wanting to reclaim what she saw as her own. There was a dilemma, too, as she had to choose between power and people. However, the latter went too fast, was decided too quickly. It was an important turning point of sorts, and as such, it would’ve deserved more screen time? I mean, if it’s about explaining a villain’s motives, might as well go all the way.

The writing was OK, not exceptional. The characters had their good sides, and were brave, but they don’t really float above many other characters, they didn’t left me with much of an impression. I didn’t care about the romance, which was close to insta-love. In spite of a lot of action, it felt somewhat boring at times. Overall it was alright, but nothing original or eye-opening in the end.

Yzabel / March 6, 2016

Review: The Scarlet Letter

The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne

My rating: [rating=3]

Blurb:

A powerful tale of forbidden love, shame, and revenge comes to life in Manga Classics: The Scarlet Letter. Faithfully adapted by Crystal Chan from the original novel, this new edition features stunning artwork by SunNeko Lee (Manga Classics: Les Miserables) which will give old and new readers alike a fresh insight into the Nathaniel Hawthorne’s tragic saga of Puritan America. .Manga Classics editions feature classic stories, faithfully adapted and illustrated in manga style, and available in both hardcover and softcover editions. Proudly presented by UDON Entertainment and Morpheus Publishing.”

Review:

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

Caveat: the ARC copy I got was backwards, which doesn’t make it too easy to read on a Kindle or tablet. This won’t be an issue with the paper copy, though—and readers not used to manga format won’t be too lost, since this is explained in the book.

This isn’t the first manga in this series I read, and like the others, while obviously not dealing with every single detail of the novel from which it’s adapted, overall it provides an accurate enough reading of said novel, making it easily accessible. (Even though I haven’t read Hawthorne’s “The Scarlett Letter” in 10 years or so, and my memories of it are fairly fuzzy.)

While quite a few things are omitted, this is likely for the best. The novel is ripe with dialogue and descriptions that wouldn’t sit too well in comics format, and condensing the story was the only way to go. The stifling atmosphere of Boston when it comes to Hester living there after she got her “A” letter is depicted fairly accurately: townspeople shunning her for her sin, their hypocrisy when they nevertheless buy her embrodery and use her works daily, how they do so while telling others “don’t accept her works because she’s a sinner”, etc. Pearl’s wild streak is represented through her relationship with the forest, where she is presented as free, at ease, playing with wolves, and through her slightly slanted gaze, a bit mysterious, a bit like some kind of “witch-child”.

I wasn’t sure about a couple of things that were shortened, though. Chillingworth’s slow revenge, for one: I don’t think all the little things he did to make his “victim” more sick were so obvious in the manga. And some of the characters’ psychology—it would’ve been interesting to see more of Hester’s relationship with Pearl’s father.

The artwork, as usual in this series, is really good, with emphasis placed on clothing and on keeping the panels clear enough. The “A” letter is the only note of colour in the whole manga, a graphic choice that allows its weight to constantly bear on the characters no matter what they do.

Conclusion: As expected, it doesn’t and wouldn’t be able anyway to encompass everything Hawthorne included in his novel. However, I think this manga summarises “The Scarlet Letter” well enough, and could very well make a reader potentially interested in going further and reading the original story.

Yzabel / March 3, 2016

Review: The Painted Ocean

The Painted Ocean by Gabriel Packard

My rating: [rating=1]

Blurb:

When I was a little girl, my dad left me and my mum, and he never came back. And you’re supposed to be gutted when that happens. But secretly I preferred it without him, cos it meant I had my mum completely to myself, without having to share her with anyone. And I sort of inherited all the affection she used to give to my dad – like he’d left it behind for me as a gift, to say sorry for deserting me

So says eleven year old Shruti of her broken home in suburban middle England. But hopes of her mother’s affection are in vain: speaking little English, and fluent in only Hindi and Punjabi, Shruti’s mother is lost, and soon falls prey to family pressure to remarry. To find another husband means returning to India and leaving Shruti behind.

Meanwhile at school a new arrival, the indomitable Meena, dispenses with Shruti’s bullying problems and transforms her day to day life. Desperate for companionship Shruti latches on to Meena to the point of obsession, following her through high school and on to university. But when Meena invites Shruti to join her on holiday in India, she has no idea how dangerous her obsession will turn out to be…

Review:

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

There were merits to this book, for what it denounced (oppression; rape; manipulative people who drown others in words the better to confuse them; humans demeaning other humans to the point of making them look like animals). Unfortunately, I thought the story overall was too implausible, and the characters not compelling enough for me to really care.

The first half of the novel was decent enough at first, depicting Shruti’s life in England as an 11-year old kid whose father was gone and whose mother was torn between her life with her daughter, and the family’s honour. This is made most blatant through the Uncle Aadesh character, who wants her to go back to India and marry another man, however the price would be to put Shruti in a foster family… and leaver her there. Terrorised by the prospect of being kept away from her mother, Shruti makes bad decision upon bad decision, managing to land herself in, well, a foster family.

And I guess this is where things started to go downhill, because for the whole story, Shruti struck me as a pushover and a not so smart person, which didn’t made her sympathetic nor made me root for her. Meena wasn’t better, mind you: her way of ending the bullying Shruti suffered was efficient but ruthless, and her idea to teach Aadesh a lesson was just mind-boggling (what sane 12-year old girl would come up with that? Why did Shruti not reflect upon that when she was grown-up?). It didn’t reflect so much the life of South-Asian people in the UK than make me wonder why I should care, and this was really too bad, because I wanted to care, and I wanted to read more about Shruti’s experiences… if only they hadn’t been so improbable and/or based on silly decisions on her part. I guess that’s obsession for you: it makes you dumb.

More than anything, what bothered me seriously was Shruti’s voice. It fitted her as a 11-year old girl, even though all the “cos” and “like” and “And I was this. And I was that. And then we did this. And then that happened.” quickly got on my nerves. However, it was definitely weird when she kept that voice as a 18/19-year old woman, and when she went through the traumatising experiences of the second half of the novel, it was… disturbing. Not in a good way: in a “see a child being raped” way. I don’t particularly like reading about that. Rape is terrible enough as it is.

Those same experiences were also too far on the bizarre end of the spectrum: flying to the other side of the world, getting embroiled in such situations, people treating others like slaves, manipulative games… All those kept piling up upon each other, to the point where my suspension of disbelief was all but suspended by a thread, which broke quickly soon after that. If it had been less unbelievable, and more subtle, it would definitely have had a strong impact; but there’s strong, and there’s overkill. I wanted to feel for Shruti, and ended up just wondering why she couldn’t see through anything, why she thought like a kid (using a stolen passport and thinking that’s a good idea? Well…), why anyone would make such decisions, really. The ending was interesting; it would’ve been better if it hadn’t been so rushed—I honestly couldn’t believe how Shruti managed to get where she did, in so few pages (considering how non-savvy she was, she should have died ten times over).

I may have appreciated the story if the bizarre setting had been peopled with characters I could enjoy reading about… but it wasn’t.

Yzabel / February 27, 2016

Review: Tell the Wind and Fire

Tell the Wind and Fire by Sarah Rees Brennan

My rating: [rating=2]

Blurb:

In a city divided between opulent luxury in the Light and fierce privations in the Dark, a determined young woman survives by guarding her secrets.

Lucie Manette was born in the Dark half of the city, but careful manipulations won her a home in the Light, celebrity status, and a rich, loving boyfriend. Now she just wants to keep her head down, but her boyfriend has a dark secret of his own—one involving an apparent stranger who is destitute and despised. Lucie alone knows the young men’s deadly connection, and even as the knowledge leads her to make a grave mistake, she can trust no one with the truth.

Blood and secrets alike spill out when revolution erupts. With both halves of the city burning, and mercy nowhere to be found, can Lucie save either boy—or herself?

Review:

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

A retelling of Dickens’s “A Tale of Two Cities”, with a futuristic and urban-fantasy twist: the two cities are the two halves of New York, Light and Dark, divided according the type of magic their respective citizens can wield. Light magic for healing, for dazzling, for fighting in the name of what is “good”, through the use of bejeweled rings. And Dark magic, feeding on blood and death, but necessary nonetheless because only a Dark mage can save a Light one when the latter finds themselves poisoned by the build-up of their own power, cristallised in their veins. And in the middle of this, the dopplegangers, always born to the Dark, and cursed to die young, bearing the faces of whose people they saved by simply being created, thus taking their misery upon them.

Lucie Manette used a to be a citizen of the Dark, until her mother vanished and her father got jailed, ending up so traumatised he cannot function properly some days. After Lucie devised a plan to make him escape, they went to live with a couple of friends in Light New York, and that’s where she discovered another kind of life: one where she could be close to powerful people, one where she found love with Ethan Stryker, handsome and heir to a brilliant future.

As a retelling, I thought this worked surprisingly well in some ways: the story followed quite a few of the themes of the original one. The torn family escaping a tumultuous place and finding refuge in an apparently more peaceful one. The motif of the “double”, dealt with here with the dopplegangers—Carwyn is obviously Sydney, and his reputation as “depraved” comes from his being a doppleganger, with all the rumours about them (they have no souls, they’re born from death, etc.). The mistaken identity. The love triangle (because there is a love triangle in Dickens’s novel, so even though I usually don’t care for them, at least here it was to be expected as a motif, too). Lucie as the narrator, yet still used as a symbol, still considered as the girl to be paraded, so to speak. Sacrifice and “doing what’s right”. I found those themes, and was glad to see them, and at the same time to see how different the plot had turned out.

On the other hand, quite a few things contributed to making this book not work for me. The characters, for starters, rather weak and underdeveloped. For most of the story, Ethan was the bland cookie-cutter nice boyfriend without much of a personality. Carwyn was snarky and all, but it was difficult to get a real feeling for who he was, and I admit that mostly what I ended up with were my memories of the character of the original novel, as a trope rather than a person. Lucie… Lucie was supposedly strong, but she kept making stupid decisions that I couldn’t understand, not in a character who was supposed to be “street-savvy”. Stupid upon stupid decisions, and for someone who had spent two years navigating a different world, and the years before surviving in the Dark, she was definitely bordering on the too stupid to live variety, in spite of her magic and the way she perceived herself (she does acknowledge when she makes a bad decision… afterwards—and then promptly makes another one). This character was baffling, really, and every time she made me think she was strong, she immediately destroyed that by doing something stupid again. (And what about going to such lengths to save her father, then never talking to her family in the Dark? It didn’t seem like they had done anything wrong…)

The plot was also slow-paced, a bit confusing at first, relying on a few chapters of info-dumping to make the setting clear. I’d say about half to two thirds of the story were somewhat boring, The last 30% made the novel more interesting again, however the ending felt too open (I don’t know if there’ll be a second installment, if this is a standalone novel or the beginning of a series). The situation in both cities isn’t solved. What happens to Lucie and her beloved ones isn’t solved either, and could go wrong in so many ways that we could do with an epilogue or an additional chapter. Lucie’s status as a symbol isn’t made clear either: will other people let her stand up for what she believes in, or will she be discreetly smothered in a corner after a while? After all, she said it herself: “the Golden Thread in the Dark” (not a fan of this tile, by the way, however it echoes well Lucie’s hair in AToTC) was a child, pure and innocent, but once the child becomes a woman, people start perceiving her differently, and the image she projects is different, too…

Last but not least, the typical “pocket-world syndrome” often found in dystopian stories. New York is clearly not the only place where people can use Light and Dark magic (trains go to other places outside of the city, for instance), but there’s never any mention of another type of government than the Light council, no mention of other cities, no National Guard or whatever to intervene when the revolution starts, and so on. It’s like Light & Dark New York are the only cities left on Earth, or as if the rest of the world doesn’t care, won’t do anything, won’t even turn an eye on its problems. I always find this odd.

All in all, it *was* an interesting retelling in several ways, and a darker kind of YA as well, but fell short of what I thought it could’ve been.

Yzabel / February 26, 2016

Review: The Imitation Game

The Imitation Game: Alan Turing Decoded by Jim Ottaviani

My rating: [usr 4]

Blurb:

English mathematician and scientist Alan Turing (1912–1954) is credited with many of the foundational principles of contemporary computer science. The Imitation Game presents a historically accurate graphic novel biography of Turing’s life, including his groundbreaking work on the fundamentals of cryptography and artificial intelligence. His code breaking efforts led to the cracking of the German Enigma during World War II, work that saved countless lives and accelerated the Allied defeat of the Nazis. While Turing’s achievements remain relevant decades after his death, the story of his life in post-war Europe continues to fascinate audiences today.

Award-winning duo Jim Ottaviani (the #1 New York Times bestselling author of Feynman and Primates) and artist Leland Purvis (an Eisner and Ignatz Award nominee and occasional reviewer for the Comics Journal) present a factually detailed account of Turing’s life and groundbreaking research—as an unconventional genius who was arrested, tried, convicted, and punished for his openly gay lifestyle, and whose innovative work still fuels the computing and communication systems that define our modern world. Computer science buffs, comics fans, and history aficionados will be captivated by this riveting and tragic story of one of the 20th century’s most unsung heroes.

Review:

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

A good general biography of Alan Turing. Not going into many details, as this wouldn’t be really convenient in graphic novel form anyway, but comprehensive enough to encompass the most important aspects of his work.

Sometimes this comics reminded me of “Breaking the Code”—I guess that was because of the different narrators, and possibly also the interrogator’s questions hinting at Turing’s homosexuality, although the focus was less on that here than it was in the play. Interestingly, those “hints” were most often dismissed by the people telling about Turing’s life: his mother (apparently naively) understanding this was about girls, Clarke and others basically shrugging it off (“he wasn’t the only one, and we didn’t care anyway because we were in Bletchley Park to work, not to worry about such things”), a colleague wondering why the hell Alan even broached the subject yet being his friend and working with him pretty fine all the same, etc. This aspect of Turing’s life is always difficult to deal with, IMHO: it shouldn’t matter so much, what matters is hius work, but since it was illegal in the UK at the time, it’s just not something one could overlook, as it impacted his life nonetheless.

Noteworthy is also how his work in Bletchley Park had to be downplayed, and how it had been the same for all the cryptanalystes, scientists, “wrens” and other people involved. Since it was classified information, none were allowed to tell, even after World War II was over, what kind of work exactly they had done. Some were finally allowed to reveal it decades later, after the classified bit was lifted, while others died without never having opened their mouths about it. I felt this was important, as Turing may have been more respected by his peers if he had been able to list his achievements in that regard (and the trial seems to reflect that, with those against him looking at him in belittling ways, as if he had just done “some work” and not been part of something bigger, something much more important—as if all that defined him was that “gross misconduct with another man”, and the rest wasn’t worth being mentioned).

The format is a bit strange, in that, as mentioned above, the story follows Alan’s voice as well as that of another person (his mother, his friends…) and an interrogator. It is disconcerting at first, however the use of different colours (Alan’s voice in yellow, his mother’s in pink, for instance) allows to differenciate between them. Obviously enough, this format follows that of the Imitation Game itself, where a man A has to convince an interrogator that he’s not a man, while a woman B has to convince the same interrogator A is lying and she’s telling the truth. (I say obviously, because I just can’t see how such a narrative set of voices would’ve been chosen at random.)

The drawing style, unfortunatey, didn’t do much for me, and often detracted from what the book was showing, and from some of the ways it went about exploring what may have been Turing’s thoughts: wandering in his own mind, following a trail of paper leading to other great minds like Ada Lovelace and Charles Babbage, all the while with Turing’s colleagues and friends trying to follow him, follow the trail, but clearly never managing to really catch up… I found it to be an interesting representation of what may otherwise have been tedious. (There’s some science in there, too, and it can easily become confusing to someone who’s not overly familiat with concepts behind Turing’s works.)

Drawing style not withstanding, this was a pretty interesting book, and a good introduction to Turing’s life. There are plenty of references at the end for those who’d like to read more (including Hodges’s “Alan Turing: The Enigma”). 4/5 stars.

Yzabel / February 25, 2016

Review: Try Not To Breathe

Try Not to Breathe by Holly Seddon

My rating: [rating=2]

Blurb:

Some secrets never die. They’re just locked away.

Alex Dale is lost. Destructive habits have cost her a marriage and a journalism career. All she has left is her routine: a morning run until her body aches, then a few hours of forgettable work before the past grabs hold and drags her down. Every day is treading water, every night is drowning. Until Alex discovers Amy Stevenson. Amy Stevenson, who was just another girl from a nearby town until the day she was found unconscious after a merciless assault. Amy Stevenson, who has been in a coma for fifteen years, forgotten by the world. Amy Stevenson, who, unbeknownst to her doctors, remains locked inside her body, conscious but paralyzed, reliving the past.

Soon Alex’s routine includes visiting hours at the hospital, then interviews with the original suspects in the attack. But what starts as a reporter’s story becomes a personal obsession. How do you solve a crime when the only witness lived but cannot tell the tale? Unable to tear herself away from her attempt to uncover the unspeakable truth, Alex realizes she’s not just chasing a story—she’s seeking salvation.

Review:

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

An OK read, though I wouldn’t go further than that. I could guess easily enough who the culprit was (there are plenty of hints if you pay attention), and while chasing those was fun, in retrospect, there weren’t many really “suspenseful” moments—everything was well-packed by the end.

Told through the point of view of three characters mostly, the story deals with the mystery surrounding the coma in which Amy Stevenson has spent the past 15 years of her life, after having been assaulted and left for dead. She’s still here, in her head, her mind still active, but very sluggishly, as if one year was perhaps only one day for her, and she’s first convinced she’s just sick, or hungover. Her only visitors are Jacob, who cannot let go, and Alex, a journalist struggling with alcoholism and the health problems that will follow (ironically enough, Alex used to be a successful health columnist). As Alex gets intrigued by Amy’s fate, feeling close to her both geographically and in age, she starts digging into past events, trying to figure out if there’s still a way to bring justice to the victim here, or if all trails have now gone forever cold.

I’d say the premises are definitely interesting, but the way the story unfolded was a bit… boring. Partly because of the style, that regularly was more about telling than showing (especially in the beginning), partly because, as previously mentioned, I thought there wasn’t enough tension, not enough at stake—I didn’t feel the sense of urgency and danger I like to find in mystery and triller novels, that foreboding, impending certainty that “something” is going to happen to the main character before the end. I also think I expected something different when it came to Amy’s involvment: different ways of communicating, maybe, instead of Alex sitting next to her bed and talking? Or something closer to Amy slowly waking up, or desperately trying to let the world know what she knew, and failing due to her body not responding?

The characters in general weren’t as fleshed out nor as interesting as I had hoped; in fact, they were more often annoying than anything else. Alex’s drinking problem, how she screwed up her career and marriage, weren’t such a “dark” background as a somewhat idiotic one (that is, her reactions, her way of going about a lot of things didn’t make me think she was a clever person). Jacob’s wobbly relationship with Fiona felt mainly like something that could’ve been dealt with in five minutes if the characters had been remotely willing to communicate—that was a no-brainer for me, I don’t even see why Jacob had to lie at first. (And let’s be honest, while Fiona’s reactions can be viewed as understandable, considering that she had had a bad experience in the past, the way she immediately jumped to conclusions and put on the drama queen act weren’t exactly encouraging for Jacob to start spilling the beans, making her appear like a harpy, and making me wonder if such a partner would be worth the trouble. But then, I guess I’m just not one to deal with high-maintenance people anyway.)

Conclusion: Interesting theme, but that would have worked better with more tension, and perhaps a different involvment of the comatose character. 2.5 stars.

Yzabel / February 24, 2016

Review: It’s A Wonderful Death

It’s a Wonderful Death by Sarah J. Schmitt

My rating: [rating=2]

Blurb:

Seventeen-year-old RJ always gets what she wants. So when her soul is accidentally collected by a distracted Grim Reaper, somebody in the afterlife better figure out a way to send her back from the dead or heads will roll. But in her quest for mortality, she becomes a pawn in a power struggle between an overzealous archangel and Death Himself. The tribunal presents her with two options: she can remain in the lobby, where souls wait to be processed, until her original lifeline expires, or she can replay three moments in her life in an effort to make choices that will result in a future deemed worthy of being saved. It sounds like a no-brainer. She’ll take a walk down memory lane. How hard can changing her future be?

But with each changing moment, RJ’s life begins to unravel, until this self-proclaimed queen bee is a social pariah. She begins to wonder if walking among the living is worth it if she has to spend the next sixty years as an outcast. Too quickly, RJ finds herself back in limbo, her time on Earth once again up for debate.

RJ is a snarky, unapologetic, almost unredeemable, very real girl. Her story is funny and moving, and teens will easily connect with her plight. Prepare to meet the Grim Reaper, who’s cuter than you’d expect; Hawaiian shirt–wearing Death Himself; Saint Peter (who likes to play Cornhole); and Al, the handler for the three-headed hound that guards the gates of Hell. This cast of characters accompanies RJ through her time in the afterlife and will do their best to gently shove her in the right direction.

Review:

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

Cute in some ways, although I really couldn’t get along with the main character, which is my main gripe with this novel: I get that RJ had to start with room to change in terms of personality and actions, since otherwise there wouldn’t have been such a fuss about whether she should be allowed to go back to living… but she was seriously annoying. What she considered witty and snarky comebacks were ridiculous and whiny, and I definitely won’t fault any of the other characters for calling her a spoiled princess. She came off as a brat, which made it very difficult to root for her and to want to see her unfair circumstances changed.

And they were unfair, so at least one could understand why she felt entitled to try and fight that “oh, I accidentally killed you instead of that other person I was meant to reap… Whoops, too bad, let’s move on, welcome to the afterlife, please get in line.” It’s just that after a while, my reactions were to roll my eyes at yet another iteration of RJ blabbing and putting her foot in her mouth when probably anybody and everybody else would have understood *now* was the time to shut up. Maybe it’s just me who can’t stand such characters. Or maybe she was just, well, more annoying than she was meant to be: befitting her personality, but still not something I’d like to read about for 200 pages. It didn’t help that so many people in the afterlife tended to view her as special, as deserving to see her case appealed—I couldn’t see why so many people would side with her. Her success would set a precedent, yet I can’t believe people in general would root for a self-entitled brat without having second thoughts about it. (Granted, some characters were in it for the power struggle and for cashing in favours: this at least felt logical.)

Fortunately, after RJ goes through her “trials”, she does become a more pleasant person to follow—not really because of her actions, in fact, but because her shark was more toned down and felt more “well-placed” than “bratty”.

Another problem, that I don’t know how to describe exactly: the changes she went through seemed drastic and a bit too much on the unbelievable side for me to buy them (from self-centered bully and special snowflake to nice girl who stands up for her friends and does good deeds). However, I think this has much more to do with RJ’s trials, which I felt were too short and handled too quickly. Basically the focus was much more on the “world of the afterlife”, on secondary characters like Cerberus’ handler, on the angel presiding over the tribunal and the antagonistic relationship between him and Death, and this left little room for RJ actually reliving some important moments of her past and figuring out what she had failed to do the first time. Had those been more in the spotlight, had there been more of such moments (or had these three just been longer, with more conundrums for RJ to tackle), it would’ve made her change more convincing. As they were, they ended up an afterthought, a sort of checkpoint, rather than the turning points the blurb made me expect them to be. The desired outcome was so obvious anyway…

Daniel and Madeline were nice characters, too, with Madeline casting a fresh breeze over them all: knowing she was going to die, and nevertheless choosing to live her life on her own terms, in joy and friendship (sorry, the “I’m terminally ill so I’m entitled to be an asshole” attitude doesn’t sit well with me either).

Overall the plot was sweet, though simplistic, with only a couple of twists that I could see coming, to be honest. Like a nicely wrapped gift box whose contents you’ve already guessed. It won’t be more to me than “it’s nice”. I didn’t like the book, I didn’t dislike it, and it’ll likely end up as one of those reads I’ll forget quickly.

Yzabel / February 21, 2016

Review: The Paladin Caper

The Paladin Caper by Patrick Weekes

My rating: [rating=4]

Blurb:

A thief’s good deeds are never done.

Loch and her crew are determined to stop the ancients from returning to reclaim the world they once ruled, but a kidnapped friend throws their plans awry. When a desperate rescue turns into a shocking reunion, the ancients return and seize power. Determined to stop them, Loch and the crew look for a way to close the gate to the ancients’ world, but this time, they find themselves up against an enemy that has insinuated itself into the highest ranks of the Republic. Cruel, cunning, and connected, the ancients target the crew’s families and histories, threatening to tear friendships apart.

If that weren’t bad enough, Loch must deal with her treacherous assassin sister, her turncoat ancient friend, and a daemon who has sworn to hunt her to the ends of the earth. In order to save the Republic and pull off her largest con ever, Loch will need her friends…and maybe her enemies too.

Review:

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

The tone in this last volume of the trilogy is different: somewhat darker, dealing with a more “end of the world”-oriented plot, following several plot points set in place in the previous books, and bringing a nicely-wrapped conclusion to the series. Perhaps too nicely-wrapped? I liked it in general, but I guess I would’ve appreciated finding more of the first installment’s humour.

Loch’s usual band of misfits gathers again to disrupt the Ancients’ plans, starting with one of their typical heist/cons, in a fashion any reader of this series will recognise. As usual, too, the story goes through a lot of twists and turns: events where our heroes find themselves in dire straits, but had planned for contingencies and switch to Plan B, and so on.

The characters remain well-rounded, resourceful each in their own ways, with their strengths and weaknesses: the ones we know, the ones we see them overcome. Desidora has to deal with her desire to get revenge on the friend who betrayed her, and Ululenia with the transformation she started going through in volume 2. Kail, Loch and Tern get struck where it hurts, as they have to worry for their loved ones. Dairy, definitely not the naïve young man anymore, has to go through his own ordeals, and try to discover himself in the process. Other, secondary characters are brought back into the fray as well. As for the enemies, they are cunning enough, don’t hesitate to resort to villains’ tactics (hostages, etc.), and manage to be both out of this world and curiously human at times, too.

The story circles through these themes both seriously and humorously. Kail and his “your mother” jokes, for instance: what does it say about his loyalty to his own family? Ululenia and her new urges: they get expressed in ways that correspond to her, making her gradually switch from virgin-lover unicorn to a darker, more eoritcally-inclined version of herself (in amusing ways at times, such as her mind-altering alliterations turning into different words, and in much more lethal ones at other times). Tern with her reactions, the way she makes her friends understand what they need to do, not by ordering them around but through psychology—all the while having to stay away from people she still cares about. Naria with her little games and her ambivalence: it’s so hard to tell whether she’s “nice” or a “traitor”, and this makes her more interesting, as it’s never clear-cut. Pyvic and Derenky: the latter wants the former’s job, everybody knows it, and everybody (Derenky included) jokes about it. And other countless little things.

In terms of pacing, much like the characters, we never get to fully rest, and it’s obvious that something is always bound to happen. The breaks they manage here and there are never meant to last, and it makes for a grand finale, with action scenes going parallel to each other, enemies that won’t relent on the means to take our heroes down, and various settings where every person, every small team has a key role to play.

I am undecided as to some of the twists, though: the last third rests on actions that the characters have planned, but that the readers aren’t aware of, and while it’s surprising and befitting Loch & Co’s wits and abilities to improvise, it also brushes upon of a device consisting in denying information to readers—in other words, it made me wonder if there wouldn’t have been a way of letting me, reader, suspect something, without having to use what looked a lot like a deus ex machina. (Not in terms of new events happening: in terms of events that happened in the past, yet are revealed in such a way that they seem to arrive out of nowhere.)

The story’s also lacking a sense of urgency when it comes to people dying. Not everyone gets out of there unscathed, however considering the world-shaking potential consequences, the novel seemed to end just a tad bit too conveniently for some (and the scarred ones felt slightly like an afterthought, as if someone had to get hurt for this to be believable, so, hey, let’s hurt a few people).

The social commentary, finally, is a bit of an oddball: heavy-handed in some ways, yet crafted through the story in a logical manner that highlights and mocks injustices. Depending on one’s mood and sensibilities, this could be a problem. I will confess to paying more attention to the action and characters than to how this commentary was to be taken—sometimes, I guess I just happen to bypass that kind of things.

I’m still giving this novel 4 stars. In spite of my reservations about it, I enjoyed it, and enjoyed seeing all the arcs gathered and solved. The characters are clearly ones I’ll keep in my mind for some time.

Yzabel / February 19, 2016

Review: The Masked City

The Masked City by Genevieve Cogman

My rating: [rating=3]

Blurb:

Librarian-spy Irene is working undercover in an alternative London when her assistant Kai goes missing. She discovers he’s been kidnapped by the fae faction and the repercussions could be fatal. Not just for Kai, but for whole worlds.

Kai’s dragon heritage means he has powerful allies, but also powerful enemies in the form of the fae. With this act of aggression, the fae are determined to trigger a war between their people – and the forces of order and chaos themselves.

Irene’s mission to save Kai and avert Armageddon will take her to a dark, alternate Venice where it’s always Carnival. Here Irene will be forced to blackmail, fast talk, and fight. Or face death.

Review:

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

3 stars. The Library-verse and the main characters are now established, and the plot could therefore fulfil its course without much exposition. (Although the “negative” point here is that I don’t think reading “The masked City” without having read “The Invisible Library” would be a good decision… but then, that’s why it’s called a second volume in a series, after all—exactly what it says on the tin.)

The focus is placed more on Irene herself, as an agent of the Library who has to navigate strange lands without counting on anyone but herself, nor on anyone’s wits but her own. Kai isn’t with her for most of the story, for reasons that are obvious from chapter 1: he’s been kidnapped, and in a reverse Damsel In Distress plot, it’s up to her to save him, with limited help from Vale who, as a human, would likely get mad very quickly in a high chaos level world.

And deliciously trope-y this book is, in more ways than one, both using archetypes and turning them around. The Dark Seductress, the Cunning Spouse/Grey Eminence, the Spy Hero(ine), the Enemies-turned-allies… Irene has to deal with those, and more, as the Fae in this universe are notorious for living vicariously through stories and archetypes, embroiling everybody around in their schemes in order to repeat those very plots. The more powerful the Fae, of course, the more gripping and unavoidable the story.

There’s less of the Library itself this time, and more of the Librarian In Action: this can be good or bad, depending on what wishes to read—I admit I would’ve preferred to see more of the Library and other agents, even though in general I enjoy adventures and spies characters. The Language is a powerful tool when used well, which is shown several times, as Irene can basically bend reality itself, and turn antagonists around by crafting a Story of her own; and yet it doesn’t make her all-powerful, because any circumstances when she cannot speak render her powerless—something she has to constantly keep at the back of her mind, in order to avoid such circumstances.

On the other hand, while there are high stakes and a real danger of war that must be averted, the kidnapping plot wasn’t the strongest one ever. And while keeping Vale as a secondary character was great (I like myself a good old private investigator), not seeing him much was a bit of a letdown. Another thing, perhaps a corollary of the archetype/stories-driven atmosphere, was that it wasn’t always easy to determine whether a particular action or decision was genuine, determined by the “storylines” Irene & al. Were thrown in, or an easy device to have the characters go where the author wanted them to. It both fits and doesn’t, if that makes sense. (And I’m not quite sure what to make of the potential romance subplot. It’s difficult to tell whether Irene is interested in either Kai or Vale in a “genuine” way—romance and love triangles can be pretty good or pretty bad, and can swing so easily from one part of the spectrum to the other…)

The writing felt also heavy-handed at times, laden with adverbs that kept creeping in. To be honest, I mostly read this novel while on the move, and as such I didn’t pay as much attention as I could have to the style itself; however, I suspect that if I noticed this in such conditions, it may be, indeed, rather noticeable in general.

Conclusion: a fun story, with a good deal of action and plenty of nice little tricks for those who enjoy their tropes. Nevertheless, it lacked the spark the Library would have brought it for me (not enough books and book-related heists, I guess).

Yzabel / February 16, 2016

Review: The Dark Days Club

The Dark Days Club by Alison Goodman

My rating: [rating=4]

Blurb:

London, April 1812. On the eve of eighteen-year-old Lady Helen Wrexhall’s presentation to the queen, one of her family’s housemaids disappears-and Helen is drawn into the shadows of Regency London. There, she meets Lord Carlston, one of the few who can stop the perpetrators: a cabal of demons infiltrating every level of society. Dare she ask for his help, when his reputation is almost as black as his lingering eyes? And will her intelligence and headstrong curiosity wind up leading them into a death trap?

Review:

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

3,5 stars. A bit slow, but I realised I didn’t mind this: mostly it was due to the depiction of Regency Era daily life for a young noblewoman debuting in society, and considering that this was one of the stakes in the narrative, it felt appropriate.

In 1812 London, with London wary about the advance of Napoleon Bonaparte in Europe, Lady Helen Wrexhall is coming of age under the watchful eye of her aunt and uncle, who brought her and her brother up after their parents drowned at sea. While Helen’s life seems perfect in many ways considering the times and her place in society (she has, after all, a title, fame, and money), her family’s history keeps casting a shadow on her reputation: her mother was rumoured to be a traitor to the crown, and because of that “stain”, it is of the utmost importance that she remains a proper lady in all circumstances. And “proper lady” involves many things that she is not, and not so many things that she is—that is, full of wit and energy, and eager to learn (she is skilled in Latin and natural philosophy, among other things… all matters that were tolerated when she was a “girl”, but won’t fit a “grown-up woman”).

The writing style in general was fluid and the descriptions pleasant. A great deal of the narrative deals with the dichotomy in Helen’s life. She tries to conform to what her aunt and uncle expect from her, but with a certain degree of unease: should she shun her mother like her uncle demands her to, publicly denouncing her as a traitor, or keep her head high and remember the loving mother she only for the first eight years of her life? And all the while, she discovers more and more troubling truths about the world she’s always taken for granted. Truths involving a dark and dashing young lord rumoured to have murdered his wife, a group of people with noble and less noble motives, and perhaps also her mother’s activities.

I liked Helen in general: headstrong but not too stupid to live; willing to discover the truth but also frightened by it and trying to understand what she really wanted (and wanted to do);doing what she could to fit in yet frustrated by all the limitations placed upon her both by society and by her family. Her relationship with Darby was strong, a beautiful budding friendship rather than a simple maid-and-lady relationship, with mutual respect and trust.

The supernatural aspect is fairly “easy” and traditional—creatures living hidden amidst humans, feeding upon them, vs. a group of men and women dedicated to fighting them—but all in all, it worked, and it brought enough dark elements and secrets to keep me entertained and interested. Obviously enough, Helen finds herself embroiled into their activities, and torn between her perceived duties as a lady and her perceived duties regarding those truths she uncovered. Trifling matters? Perhaps, but to be expected in relationship to her social position. Balancing supernatural activities in secret when you’re still dependent on a male parent (who also controls all your money and watches you to make sure you’re not going to turn “evil” like your mother)… Well, it’s not so easy, and more is at stake than just being grounded for a few days. Helen’s struggles to come to terms with what *she* wanted to do—she, not her uncle, or her brother, or her aunt, or Carlston, or even her mother—felt true, and highlighted the general struggles of other women of that era: does one have to remain stuck in a role defined by others, or can she hope to decide on her own life?

I got a bit tired of the overall slowness (and some info-dumping) around the middle of the novel, to be honest—although it fortunately picked up in the last part, there were some places where I wished the plot would move faster, or that the action scenes were more intense (Helen wasn’t exactly a fighter in those, and her being a spectator rather than an actor also impeded the narrative’s rhythm). The descriptions and everyday life would likely be good for a reader wanting to read about those, but not so much if one is in another mood.

I also found that other characters weren’t as fleshed out as Helen, and I wish I could have gotten to know them better. In a way, I’m glad that the romance part was far from being a huge subplot, because I would’ve needed to feel more about Carlston for that.

All in all I liked this story and will gladly pick the next volume… although I hope its rhythm will be a bit faster.