books Archives - Page 46 of 64

Yzabel / July 21, 2014

Review: We Are All Completely Fine

We Are All Completely Fine by Daryl Gregory

My rating: [rating=4]

Summary:

Harrison is the Monster Detective, a storybook hero. Now he’s in his mid-thirties and spends most of his time not sleeping.

Stan became a minor celebrity after being partially eaten by cannibals. Barbara is haunted by the messages carved upon her bones. Greta may or may not be a mass-murdering arsonist. And for some reason, Martin never takes off his sunglasses.

Unsurprisingly, no one believes their horrific tales until they are sought out by psychotherapist Dr. Jan Sayer. What happens when these likely-insane outcasts join a support group? Together they must discover which monsters they face are within and which are lurking in plain sight.

Review:

(I got an ARC of this book through NetGalley, in exchange for an honest review.)

This was an intriguing and gripping novella, tackling a question that is probably seldom asked: what of the somewhat normal people in paranormal/supernatural stories, the ones who aren’t the powerful mage detective or powerful vampire or whatever, yet have also dealt with their share of anything-but-normal situations? What of those people’s psyche, can they ever go back to a semblance of normalcy, and how? In an attempt to reclaim their selves, five people gather around Dr. Jan Sayer to talk through their problems, some more reluctantly than others, gradually revealing what exactly happened to them, and how it left them scarred. Because no matter what befell them, whether true monsters or human cannibals or other deranged kinds of minds, it was just the right amount of too bizarre for them to find solace in traditional therapy, which basically ended up in a bunch of souls suffering without ever being able to truly express how… until the group started meeting, that is.

The world building rests on a lot of common themes, some well-known (Lovecraftian mythos—the town of Dunnmouth being obviously reminiscent of Innsmouth), some vague enough that they could be placed basically in any series, and all morbidly fascinating in their own ways. The family of human cannibals that fed off Stan’s and his friends’ bodies, for instance, is pretty close to typical stories of that kind (like the Sawney Bean clan). The Scrimshander could be a regular psychopath touched with a bit of sight… or something else altogether. Greta’s fiery little problem could be interpreted as a variety of spirits. As a result, I felt it allowed the story to fit a lot of potential settings, and gain a kind of legitimacy.

Though overall, I liked it a lot, I remain slightly frustrated. I wanted this book to be longer. I loved its premise, but I felt that it sometimes came short, and wasn’t exploited enough (especially when the doctor was concerned). The ending, too, left me somewhat dissatisfied, in that it seemed to leave the characters too close to where they started. In part, its outcome fits the bleak theme of the book as a whole, yet I couldn’t help but wonder if it went “far enough”.

A note about the style, quite atypical: a blend of first person plural (highlighting the sense of a collective, of a group) and third person. I thought it worked, but it could just as well detract from one’s enjoyment of the story. Be warned.

Nevertheless, I’d still recommend this novel no matter what.

Yzabel / July 21, 2014

Review: How To Date Dead Guys

How To Date Dead Guys by Ann M. Noser

My rating: [rating=3]

Summary:

College sophomore Emma Roberts remembers her mother’s sage advice: “don’t sleep around, don’t burp in public, and don’t tell anyone you see ghosts”. But when cute Mike Carlson drowns in the campus river under her watch, Emma’s sheltered life shatters.

Blamed for Mike’s death and haunted by nightmares, Emma turns to witchcraft and a mysterious Book of Shadows to bring him back. Under a Blood Moon, she lights candles, draws a pentacle on the campus bridge, and casts a spell. The invoked river rages up against her, but she escapes its fury. As she stumbles back to the dorm, a stranger drags himself from the water and follows her home. And he isn’t the only one…

Instead of raising Mike, Emma assists the others she stole back from the dead—a pre-med student who jumped off the bridge, a young man determined to solve his own murder, and a frat boy Emma can’t stand…at first. More comfortable with the dead than the living, Emma delves deeper into the seductive Book of Shadows. Her powers grow, but witchcraft may not be enough to protect her against the vengeful river and the killers that feed it their victims.

Inspired by the controversial Smiley Face Murders, HOW TO DATE DEAD GUYS will appeal to the secret powers hidden deep within each of us.

Review:

(I received a copy of this book from the publisher, Curiosity Quills, in exchange for an honest review, as part of the related blog tour. Thanks a lot for allowing me to take part in it.)

How To Date Dead Guys was a nice read, light enough and even funny in parts, while also more serious in others. The problems Emma ran into, trying to cover up for the several guys she accidentally brought back from the dead, sometimes made me smile. At the same time, the novel also provided interesting (if typical) questions about “what would you do if you had a second chance at coming to terms with something you couldn’t finish before your death?” Every single one of the drowned men left something behind them, something unfinished, whether it concerned themselves, a relative, or a lover; and those stories were all touching in their own ways. I couldn’t help but agree with them, with their choices to “make it right” or at least try to see what had become of their loved ones.

Emma as a protagonist was fine enough: painfully shy at first, but gaining confidence as she grew into her powers and was also forced to come up with lies to hide what she had done—this with a hint of being tempted in the future by this same power she’s acquired. It’s not the main focus of this first installment in the series, but I wouldn’t be so quick to dismiss her desire to keep the Book of Shadows even though it put her in this mess for starters. (First one guy, then another, then three, and all with their own issues? Definitely a mess.) I also liked Jake a lot: infuriating at first, and seemingly a jerk, but one with a heart of gold, who opened Emma’s eyes on more than one thing. He wasn’t even so much a jerk, in fact, than a sociable guy who enjoyed life and took it as it came to get the best out of it, even in death. The outcome of his own predicament was a bit predictable, but cute nonetheless.

And I guess the cuteness factor is one of the things that made me like this book (that, and necromancy—let’s face it, it is necromancy, and I’m always partial to such magic). Even though the novel sometimes bordered on the “too cute”, it was enjoyable. Sure, it might seem cheesy, and yet I just want to say: “So what?” Sometimes we need twee plots and characters. Sometimes we need twee plots and characters. Sometimes I like myself such a book, and considering I had a hard time putting it down for long, I’d say it quite reached its goal.

It’s also light on the romance: there are several men involved, so it stands to logics that Emma wouldn’t get into a relationship with all of them. She’s not immune to their different personalities, their qualities, their quirks, but she manages to remember that nothing can come out of this (them being obviously doomed to become dead again at some point), and in my opinion, such budding relationships, condemned from the beginning, actually helped her grow as a person, going from fickle, almost teenager-like “first attraction” feelings to a deeper understanding of life and love.

On the other hand, I found a couple of things too exaggerated (everyone blaming Emma for Mike’s death was like kicking the proverbial puppy, and Chrissy seemed just so terribly superficial and “me, me, me” that she became tiring—good thing she doesn’t appear much). Moreover, I found the plotline a little too over the place, in that it wove the stories of all those guys, along with Emma’s, Abby’s, Walker’s, and a few others, but didn’t seem to have a really definite plot. The part about the murders came a little too late to my liking, and almost felt like a kind of afterthought, as if the novel suddenly had to be more serious than it had been up until now. There are some hints here and there, but the characters just don’t seem that bothered about them, except perhaps for two (who don’t voice out their suspicions, though, so they’re only proved right later).

I’m giving it 3/3.5 stars “only” because of that, but I’ll still recommend it if you’re looking for a light read that is sometimes fun, sometimes mellow, and sometimes sad.

You can get this book from:

Amazon US: http://amzn.com/1620075199

Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1620075199
Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/how-to-date-dead-guys-ann-m-noser/1119938862?ean=9781620075197

Yzabel / July 20, 2014

Review: The Girl From The Well

The Girl from the Well by Rin Chupeco

My rating: [rating=3]

Summary:

You may think me biased, being murdered myself. But my state of being has nothing to do with the curiosity toward my own species, if we can be called such. We do not go gentle, as your poet encourages, into that good night.

A dead girl walks the streets.

She hunts murderers. Child killers, much like the man who threw her body down a well three hundred years ago.

And when a strange boy bearing stranger tattoos moves into the neighborhood so, she discovers, does something else. And soon both will be drawn into the world of eerie doll rituals and dark Shinto exorcisms that will take them from American suburbia to the remote valleys and shrines of Aomori, Japan.

Because the boy has a terrifying secret – one that would just kill to get out.

The Girl from the Well is A YA Horror novel pitched as “Dexter” meets “The Grudge”, based on a well-loved Japanese ghost story.

Review:

(I got an ARC of this book through Edelweiss, in exchange for an honest review.)

Not so much “terribly scary” for me in the end, in that I don’t scare easily, yet fascinating nonetheless for its depiction of ghosts, the appearance they have after death, and the imagery it conjured. I could fairly easily picture Okiku, the murderers she targeted and got revenge on in place of the dead children, said children literally latched onto those men’s necks and linked to their limbs by spirituals cords… And the woman in black… well, all right, that one I’d definitely attempt to draw someday, although I’m not sure I could do her justice. I think the way the story was told, too, contributed to this: somewhat cold and detached, and special, because it’s a strange mix of omniscient and first person point of view (the story’s told by Okiku herself, who’s able to observe other characters and their reactions, and sense their thoughts and feelings). In any other story, it probably wouldn’t have worked for me; here, it did, because it seemed to fit with the ghost’s paradigm. I don’t know if other readers in general would like it, but as far as I’m concerned, it partook the fascination I had for this novel, through descriptions that were just the right length and just suggestive enough (all the more for the intended YA audience), without falling into the realm of “too much”.

The Girl From The Well is loosely based on a well-known Japanese legend, that of a servant girl who worked for a lord, and was tasked with keeping ten precious plates; she was tricked into believing she had lost one of them, and was put to death for her “carelessness”. As a result, she became a vengeful spirit who drove her former lord to death—and the number 9 sends her spirit into a frenzy. This was nicely reflected in the book, in that Okiku tends to count whatever she sees (people, items…), and the accursed number indeed makes her react violently. Forever detached from both human world and and elusive afterlife, she can only watch, in between enacting revenge throughout the world on people who’ve killed children, but were never punished for their bad deeds. The Smiling Man, especially, was of quite a scary persuasion—I find smiles way more frightening than other expressions whenever such characters are concerned.

However, this isn’t exactly Okiku’s story. Hers was already written, already told, and this is more a “what would happen some three hundred years later, how would such a vengeful spirit evolve with time.” Partly to her own surprise, she finds herself drawn to Tarquin, a boy with strange tattoos, and whose fate is doomed to be a dark one if what plagues him isn’t destroyed in time. (Note: there’s no romance involved—a very welcome element in my opinion. It would just’ve been weird and misplaced in such a story.) Odd things happen around Tark, his own mother has been locked in an institution and has tried to kill him several times, and he just doesn’t understand much to what’s happening. But other people slowly start to notice the presence that haunts him, those people being mostly Okiku and his cousin Callie, and it’s up to them to try and understand what his problem his, and how to solve it, which involves going back to his roots.

On the downside, I wasn’t too convinced by the characters in general, in that they seemed more driven by the plot than people with their own lives. Okiku’s involvement was also somewhat problematic, since she was mostly a watcher and didn’t act as much as I expected her to. I think I would’ve liked her nature as a vengeful spirit to show through more than it did; for instance, one of the vengeance scenes made me feel like it had been put there as some kind of reminder, and not really as part of the plot. There was also one huge blunder that could’ve been easily avoided if only one of the characters had spoken out loud about a specific event, yet didn’t for… no reason? I don’t mind characters making honest mistakes, but not when the latter are the product of unexplained reasoning.

Overall, I had a hard time putting this book down, and remained fascinated, though with hindsight, those aspects I mentioned prevented me from rating it higher. (3.5 stars)

Yzabel / July 18, 2014

Review: Sidekick

Sidekick by Auralee Wallace

My rating: [rating=2]

Summary:

Bremy St James, daughter of billionaire Atticus St James, has been cut off from the family fortune and is struggling to survive in a world that no longer holds its breath every time she buys a new outfit. To make matters worse, her twin sister is keeping secrets, loan sharks are circling, and the man of her dreams — a newspaper reporter — is on assignment to bring down everyone with the last name St James.

Things are certainly looking bleak for the down-and-out socialite until a good deed throws her into the path of the city’s top crime-fighter, Dark Ryder. Suddenly, Bremy has a new goal: apprentice to a superhero, and start her own crime-fighting career.

Ryder has no need for a sidekick, but it turns out the city needs Bremy’s help. Atticus St James is planning the crime of the century, and Bremy may be the only one able to get close enough to her father to stop him.

Now all she needs to do is figure out this superhero thing in less than a month, keep her identity secret from the man who could very well be The One, and save the city from total annihilation.

Well, no one ever said being a superhero would be easy…

Review:

(I got a copy of this book throuhg NetGalley, in exchange for an honest review.)

OK for the most part, in that it provided me with a fluffy, fast, light reading, but nothing I’ll remember much, I’m afraid.

I liked the basic idea of the ex-rich girl deciding to tackle on the role of a hero’s sidekick: I thought it held a lot of potential for funny situations as well as superhero gadgets à la Batman. However, those situations were either not exploited enough to my liking, or too ridiculous to be actually funny. I smiled a few times, but after a while, Bremy’s membership in the Too Stupid To Live club reached such epic proportions that I would just roll my eyes and wonder why anyone even bothered with her, from her shady landlord to Ryder and Bart. Smaller doses of such clueless behaviours would’ve been funny in my eyes; here, there were just too many for me to care enough to laugh.

The characters in general weren’t fleshed out, and remained at face value level. While normally, this could work in humorous stories, at least in my own reading experience, a little depth is still somewhat needed for me to fully appreciate a cast. There wasn’t much of an explanation for Queenie’s involvement, for instance, and the whole thing with Jenny indeed seemed to have moved way too fast (one month?). Some elements remained unexplained, some loose ends weren’t tied, making the novel seem like it’s begging for a sequel. The villain’s plan also felt too stale. The love interest sparked zero interest here on my part. Again, it was supposed to be funny, I know. Only it just didn’t work in my case, owing to Bremy’s TSTL quality and Pierce’s naivety. That combo was a deadly one (not in a good nor amusing way).

Overall, this novel felt as if it was trying too hard to be funny, and in the end, it became sort of… tiring. Much to my dismay, because it’s one of the genres (humour + loser heroes) I’m usually attracted to.

Yzabel / July 17, 2014

Review: Dark Child – The Omnibus Edition

Dark Child: The Omnibus Edition by Adina West

My rating: [rating=1]

Summary:

Lately things have been getting weird for pathology technician Kat Chanter. She’s been craving raw meat, and having dreams so realistic they’re scary. When she accepts a job offer from the prestigious Hema Castus Research Institute, she hopes she’ll have the chance to discover what’s wrong with her, but instead, her move to New York thrusts her headlong into a treacherous hidden world, where the wrong move could be fatal . . .

Tarot, witchcraft and astrology all take on a frightening resonance in Dark Child’s richly imagined alternative reality where vampiric beings live among us, hidden by magic. Dark romance tangles with paranormal fantasy and page-turning suspense in this enthralling tale of ‘dark child’ Kat Chanter, half-human and half-vampire, who has woken an ancient prophecy and must face a formidable destiny.

Dark Child was originally released in serial form.

Review:

(I got a copy of this book through NetGalley, in exchange for an honest review.)

In the beginning, I found the story interesting… Then I lost interest pretty quickly, and struggled to finish it.

The premise was what drew me to it; while the whole vampire/shapeshifter thing is nothing new in urban fantasy, the mythology behind those here was pleasant to discover, though a bit heavy sometimes in terms of information dumping. I also liked Kat at first, as she took matters in hands, analysed her own blood to try and find out what the anomalies in it meant, and so on.

Unfortunately, it didn’t last. Mostly I’d chalk this out to four factors:

1) The pacing. At some point, I was seriously going into cabin fever mode, itching to read something else than “characters remain cooped up in hiding in some house in the mountains”. When action happened, it came a little too late to my liking, and was over too quickly. It made me think, really, so that was it? After that, the ending seemed to drag, too.

2) The characters. Kat turned out to be a rather bland, passive person who let a lot of other people talk about her as if she was an object (right under her nose). Some of it was understandable, because at some point she was compelled to remain quiet, through the use of another character’s power. But it went on later, even when such powers weren’t enacted anymore. I had good hopes for this character, and she clearly didn’t live up to them, not even a little. The others had a few distinctive features, but they never struck me as remarkable in any way. As for the “villains”… Yeah, well, not very active either.

3) The romance. Completely useless in my opinion. It didn’t bring anything to the plot, and the two male ends of the love triangle never registered as interesting for me. The only redeeming feature in it was Kat at least realising that getting involved with the Bad Boy wasn’t such a great idea.

4) Borderline Too Stupid To Live decisions. Totally subjective factor here, because I’m a geek and I get that people who’re less tech-savvy than I wouldn’t necessarily consider such issues, but… Seriously, when you’re on the lam, you do not use your cell phone to call your parents. Hello there? GPS tracking? Stuff like Facebook apps registering your location? Bad guys tapping the line? Whatever?

I wanted to like it. I really did. Alas, alas…

Yzabel / July 13, 2014

Review: The Steampunk Trilogy

The Steampunk Trilogy by Paul Di Filippo

My rating: [rating=1]

Summary:

An outrageous trio of novellas that bizarrely and brilliantly twists the Victorian era out of shape, by a master of steampunk alternate history

Welcome to the world of steampunk, a nineteenth century outrageously reconfigured through weird science. With his magnificent trilogy, acclaimed author Paul Di Filippo demonstrates how this unique subgenre of science fiction is done to perfection—reinventing a mannered age of corsets and industrial revolution with odd technologies born of a truly twisted imagination.

In “Victoria,” the inexplicable disappearance of the British monarch-to-be prompts a scientist to place a human-lizard hybrid clone on the throne during the search for the missing royal. But the doppelgänger queen comes with a most troubling flaw: an insatiable sexual appetite. The somewhat Lovecraftian “Hottentots” chronicles the very unusual adventure of Swiss naturalist and confirmed bigot Louis Agassiz as his determined search for a rather grisly fetish plunges him into a world of black magic and monsters. Finally, in “Walt and Emily,” the hitherto secret and quite steamy love affair between Emily Dickinson and Walt Whitman is revealed in all its sensuous glory—as are their subsequent interdimensional travels aboard a singular ship that transcends the boundaries of time and reality.

Review:

(I got an e-copy of this book through NetGalley, in exchange for an honest review.)

A strange read, not totally devoid of interest, but that didn’t do much for me, probably in part because its title is definitely misleading when it comes to “steampunk” as a genre, and isn’t representative of what it entails. It’s more Victoriana with a dash of paranormal and alternate history, and references to existing personae (poets, scientists…) and literary works (not always exact—Nana isn’t Balzac’s work, but Zola’s). This book’s title was seemingly what coined the term “steampunk”, though there’s not a whiff of “steam” in there. Sometimes the mind boggles.

As a whole, sometimes it was accurate enough in its depiction of 19th century society, and sometimes it just didn’t work at all.

“Victoria” was amusing enough, if you appreciate a somewhat rompish humour. But its ending was highly unbelievable and improbable, considering the person involved. I just don’t see how anyone in circles of power would consider that a good idea, certainly not in British politics.

“Hottentots” I found mostly boring and disjointed, with no real sense of a plot. I kept reading it because it made fun of Agassiz, and nothing else—the humour helps defuse his racist thoughts and jingoism, which otherwise are pretty cringeworthy and hard to stand. Also, Cesar’s transcribed accent distracted me and threw me out of the story’s flow basically every time he opened his mouth). While there’s a wide variety of accents in languages, such transcriptions in literature are seldom well-done, and too quickly fall in the “too much” category. Not a good idea here, and clearly the story I liked the least (oh, scratch that: I didn’t like it at all). I’d say its only interest was in the satire department.

“Walt and Emily” was more interesting to me, because I know their poetry well enough, could find my marks there, and the planned trip to the Summerland felt at least like there was some plot there, one that fit with the two poets’ works. Style-wise, it was also the most lyrical, and I quite liked this. Unfortunately, it couldn’t really make up for the rest of the book.

1.5 stars.

Yzabel / June 20, 2014

Review: The Bone Church

The Bone Church: A Novel by Victoria Dougherty

My rating: [rating=3]

Summary:

In the surreal and paranoid underworld of wartime Prague, fugitive lovers Felix Andel and Magdalena Ruza make some dubious alliances – with a mysterious Roman Catholic cardinal, a reckless sculptor intent on making a big political statement, and a gypsy with a risky sex life. As one by one their chances for fleeing the country collapse, the two join a plot to assassinate Hitler’s nefarious Minister of Public Enlightenment and Propaganda, Josef Goebbels.

But the assassination attempt goes wildly wrong, propelling the lovers in separate directions.
Felix’s destiny is sealed at the Bone Church, a mystical pilgrimage site on the outskirts of Prague, while Magdalena is thrust even deeper into the bowels of a city that betrayed her and a homeland soon to be swallowed by the Soviets. As they emerge from the shadowy fog of World War II, and stagger into the foul haze of the Cold War, Felix and Magdalena must confront the past, and a dangerous, uncertain future.

Review:

(I got a copy through NetGalley, in exchange for an honest review.)

I wanted a change of pace with this book; I seldom read Cold War era fiction, which is definitely something I should remedy to. In a way, I got that, and something else, too.

The novel weaves two timelines, 1943-44 and 1956, that end up meeting each other, bringing loose threads together. The author always provided time and location, so keeping track of what happened when wasn’t too hard. I found the beginning of the story a little confusing, and still don’t know if it was because of the writing style, the changing timelines, or if it was just me; after a short while, things fell into place, and it was all right.

As for the historical context, I must admit I know next to nothing to Prague’s history, and I probably missed a few subtleties here when it came to the Infant of Prague and its importance in the plot. On the other hand, I had no problems piecing out those details, and I think the author provided enough information for me to enjoy it without having to stop reading, go learn a few things, and come back later.

Some scenes bordered on the “too much” at times; readers who don’t like that may be put off by those. For instance, Felix and Srut stealing a fire lorry to escape the Germans, then making their exit skating on the Vltava river. I quirked an eyebrow, while grinning at the same time. Part of me was “what the heck?”, and the other part went “nice one, guys!” It was a strange, somewhat elating feeling.

The atmosphere was permeated with a heavy sense of foreboding, with distrust, danger, suspicion, featuring potential traitors, unsuspected allies, and half-hatched plans thwarted at the last moment, always forcing the characters to get back on their feet, to react to the unexpected. However careful their plans, it was obvious they wouldn’t be able to go through them seamlessly, and this added to the paranoia and tension. Sometimes, too, surrealistic descriptions gave an extra edge to the action, especially when Felix was concerned: you never know at first if the people he sees are friends or enemies, real or only in his mind. It reinforced the feeling of something not right going on.

My main gripes with this story:

1) Some of the plot twists rested on characters that are seldom seen or, worse, appear once only. For instance, the nun, or the bishop, who’re mentioned once: when they do their particular deed. Such things don’t sit well with me in general. Here, they made the twists feel contrived, and I think the latter would’ve had more of an impact on me if said characters had been introduced beforehand, even in a couple of scenes only (like Andrea). As a result, those threads confused me, and threw me out of the story a few times.

2) Magdalena’s involvement, compared to Felix’s, felt like a secondary role. I would’ve enjoyed seeing more of her, more of the path she had to walk alone. She seemed to stand in the background, more spectator than actor, and this made her character less “real” in my eyes.

An interesting story all in all, but not exactly an easy read, and one that might have benefitted from a little more development when it came to some of the secondary characters.

Yzabel / June 18, 2014

Review: Reckoning

Reckoning by Kerry Wilkinson

My rating: [rating=2]

Summary:

In the village of Martindale, hundreds of miles north of the new English capital of Windsor, sixteen-year-old Silver Blackthorn takes the Reckoning. This coming-of- age test not only decides her place in society – Elite, Member, Inter or Trog – but also determines that Silver is to become an Offering for King Victor.

But these are uncertain times and no one really knows what happens to the teenagers who disappear into Windsor Castle. Is being an Offering the privilege everyone assumes it to be, or do the walls of the castle have something to hide?Trapped in a maze of ancient corridors, Silver finds herself in a warped world of suspicion where it is difficult to know who to trust and who to fear. The one thing Silver does know is that she must find a way out . . .

The heart-stopping first book in a new trilogy by UK author Kerry Wilkinson, Reckoning is the story of one girl’s determination to escape the whims of a cruel king, and what she must do to survive against all odds.

Review:

(I got an ARC through NetGalley, in exchange for an honest review.)

2-2.5 stars. In itself, it was a decent enough read, only I couldn’t help but be reminded of many other dystopian YA stories… and after a while, those start to blend together. Among other things, it felt quite reminiscent of The Hunger Games and similar stories, except that the people involved weren’t actively trying to kill each other, but were doing so in underhanded ways, notably being cowards and telling on others.

I was drawn towards this story because of its setting (post-war UK, or rather England/Wales—Scotland, well, nobody talks about Scotland, there must be something fishy with Scotland) and the promised mix of technology and mediaeval buildings/structures. However, such a mix is usually kind of hard to achieve, and I’m not sure it always worked here. The idea of a King totally fits the United Kingdom (much more than it would a US setting, for sure), and I think oppression resting on the ashes of a lasting civil war might be believable for a time. I can see people being so wary that they just want to close their eyes and ignore their current predicament, because at least they don’t have to fight anymore.

On the other hand, I’m not sure that “oil ran out” could be used as the sole justification behind wars on the world level; I keep wondering what else should’ve been involved to make the situation as desperate. Also, the class society in the novel didn’t really convince me: it remained too vague. What do Elites do, except being “the upper class”, with the Members and Inter being, let’s say, “upper-middle” and “lower-middle”, and the Trogs being the “working class”? It seemed to me that no matter their status, those people kind of did the same jobs: an Elite guy and a Trog girl both end up working in the kitchens, for instance, and this system seemed to clash with how the Offerings were assigned to their jobs depending on skills (Silver ends up in a technology-related environment, because she was picked a tech-savvy during her Reckoning, but whether she was a Member or a Trog didn’t seem to matter at this point). So in the end, I didn’t really understand the point. I suppose it would’ve made more sense if I had seen society as a whole depicted here, with non-Offerings going about their work. Whenever I saw some, those were people who hadn’t gone through the Reckoning (like Silver’s mother, or the Head Kingsmen, who were already there before Reckonings first took place). They were outside the new class system, so to speak, and it didn’t help me understand the latter.

Another problem was that I found a lot of things predictable. It might be just me, it might be due to similar stories I’ve read before, I don’t know. It was obvious from the beginning that the King was completely mad, to the point of killing Offerings on a whim, which sure explained why nobody ever heard of them again, hah. The “let’s try to escape” part was obvious as well, just like the romance part, and what actually happened to the families of those who didn’t keep a low profile.

Silver Blackthorn: let’s not dwell on that name; I still can’t stand it. I had mixed feelings about her. In some ways, she came off as a coward, but at the same time, this attitude was also clever: don’t get noticed, so that you live longer, and if you live longer, you have a chance of actually doing something. She limited her interactions with, and therefore her understanding of, other characters, who mostly remained bland and stereotypical. On the other hand, she also kept other people in mind: her family, Opie’s, as well as the other Offerings. She’s not planning a selfish escape just for herself and The Boy (OK, she does at first, and then she considers the bigger picture). I think what bothered me was that I would’ve expected her to do more tech-related stuff. Well, she does, but… in such a way that it’s only seen afterwards.

And here’s where I must touch upon something that really hindered the novel in my opinion: the first person point of view. There’s a moment when a big twist unfurls, and the reader is led to believe something, while something else altogether is brewing. However, I think that the first person narrative is problematic in such cases, because once the twist is revealed, the reader immediately thinks: “Hey, the character knew about it, so how come s/he withheld the information, both from me and from him/herself?” This is what happened here. Before that point, the narrative was all right. After it, I couldn’t get back into it anymore. For those who’ve already read the book: I’m talking, of course, about how we’re led to believe Imrin has betrayed Silver, but in fact this was all part of an act, and the other boys and girls were plotting in the background so that everybody could escape. Which Silver knew, yet deliberately “withheld” from herself, and therefore from me, reader. Tough there are a couple of hints here and there, they’re not enough. In any case, what followed was a recap of who did what, and then only Silver’s role was made more apparent… but by then, I felt cheated.

I would add to this a mild case of convenient chains of events, such as this or that character forgetting to lock a door on a regular basis. It didn’t sit so well with me when it came to a place where paranoia was a rule.

Bonus point, though, for the romance, in that:

1) It doesn’t dwell too much on a potential love triangle. This might come back in the next book, but for now, I’m going to ignore such a possibility, because I can and I want to.

2) The characters are attracted to each other while they do and think of other things. They mostly meet to find a way out, not merely to kiss and grope in the dark. The attraction comes later—and it doesn’t take too much space, contrary to what I’ve seen happen in too many other stories.

I somewhat enjoyed this novel; I’d probably have enjoyed it more if it didn’t feel and taste like many others in the same genre.

Yzabel / June 17, 2014

Review: Child of a Hidden Sea

Child of a Hidden Sea by A.M. Dellamonica

My rating: [rating=2]

Summary:

One minute, twenty-four-year-old Sophie Hansa is in a San Francisco alley trying to save the life of the aunt she has never known. The next, she finds herself flung into the warm and salty waters of an unfamiliar world. Glowing moths fall to the waves around her, and the sleek bodies of unseen fish glide against her submerged ankles.

The world is Stormwrack, a series of island nations with a variety of cultures and economies—and a language different from any Sophie has heard.

Sophie doesn’t know it yet, but she has just stepped into the middle of a political firestorm, and a conspiracy that could destroy a world she has just discovered… her world, where everyone seems to know who she is, and where she is forbidden to stay.

But Sophie is stubborn, and smart, and refuses to be cast adrift by people who don’t know her and yet wish her gone. With the help of a sister she has never known, and a ship captain who would rather she had never arrived, she must navigate the shoals of the highly charged politics of Stormwrack, and win the right to decide for herself whether she stays in this wondrous world . . . or is doomed to exile.

Review:

(I got an ARC through NetGalley, in exchange for an honest review.)

2.5 stars. This book gave me trouble, although I should’ve liked its setting and themes. When I had to put it down, and then wanted to pick it up again, geting back into the story was a little hard.

I quite liked the world of Stormwrack, which seems fairly rich and complex, full of political intricacies, bureaucracy antics, and red tape tactics. There’s a lot of potential in there, a potential that doubles up with the Fleet—a literal fleet of ships representing every nation, basically a federation existing on sea only, and acting as a central government of sorts. I don’t doubt readers who like stories with a lot of sea travel and exploration will enjoy this side of the novel. A lof of Stormwrack’s system rests on notions such as honour, giving one’s word, having one’s origin speak for their character; this is partly cliché (“the Sylvanners are thieves”, “the Tiladenes are promiscuous”), yet also leaves room for misinterpretation, culture clashes, and having to speak up for oneself, without resorting to family support.

My main problem lay with Sophie. I couldn’t warm up to this character, and thought her rather immature for a 24-year-old woman who’s had experience in “delicate” situations such as diving, which for me implies knowledge and responsibility. While this was part of her character development, I was constantly reminded of what I’m going to call her “tourist mentality”, and in the end, she was still going strong enough about it (obssessed with bringing back samples and pictures, etc.). She first ended up on Stormwrack after saving the life of Gale, a woman who had turned out to be her biological aunt, and that chain of events already hinted at a dangerous world. I could understand Sophie’s desire to go back there and learn more; I had less understanding for the way she did it, ignoring everyone’s recommendations, and involving her brother Bram in the muddle. It felt as if she just didn’t think, only considering the pretty shiny things in the sea, and never the bigger picture and the potential dangers she might put Bram in.

And this very attitude indeed put people in danger, and/or ruined lives. Granted, said people never really explained either how she was such a “threat” to them, not until it was too late, so I don’t blame Sophie for not getting it sooner. However, I do blame her for not thinking it through. For instance, when the bad guys threatened her with magic, demanding she retrieved an item for them, not once did she consider that they may get after other people if she didn’t move fast enough to their liking. Guess what? Someone got kidnapped, and put in harm’s way. The “I have your wife” trope is already tricky enough as it is, since it forces characters to make callous choices (let the loved one die, or let the rest of the world suffer), but when the character herself dive into it head-first, it’s even harder.

Moreover, Sophie had a meandering mind, and after a while, it became distracting (perhaps this was part of the reason why I could never get back into the story easily?). She’d be doing something important to free the aforementioned person, but thinking of the flora and fauna right in the middle of the “mission”. I don’t how it goes for other people; my own mind tend to wander a lot, too; but when something really important pops up, I focus on the task at hand. Maybe I shouldn’t expect characters to react like that, but… I can’t help it. If Mum gets kidnapped, who would be worrying about hiding wasp samples and whatnot inside their skirts? Not me. Similarly, in the beginning, Sophie goes about voicing out whatever goes through her head, when she’s in the middle of an unknown sea, trying not to drown with Gale. Her narrative voice was therefore a little troublesome, although I finally got used to it.

Another problem was how she managed to investigate. As a person thrown in a world whose geopolitical complexities she didn’t know, sometimes she did the math too quickly, more quickly than people who were born and raised on that world. This didn’t strike me as very logical, and made the other characters seem a little dumb. It felt as if they had been dumbed down for the protagonist to show how clever she was, instead of Sophie just being, well, smart. (The connections she made could’ve been made by Verena, who knows Earth technology, and would’ve been just as able, if not more, to connect the dots.)

World-building quibbles of mine:

1) The time travel aspect. It is heavily implied that Stormwrack is future!Earth, but I didn’t see the point. The story would’ve worked just as well if it had been a bona fide other world, and this left me wondering, only to close the book with no more answers about that in the end. Was it really important? Is there going to be a sequel, resting more on this specific matter?

2) The secrecy. Stormwrack people aren’t supposed to know about Erstwhile (Earth), but some of them had the portal magic/technology, and seemingly Gale was acting as courier between both worlds, which also implied that other people from Stormwrack lived in Erstwhile. Why? Who were they? If there’s a post service, it means there’s a need, so how many of them were there? Why the secrecy? As a reader, I don’t want to be told “it’s hush-hush business”: I want to know why it is.

On the other hand, bonus point for deconstructing “the Chosen One/Destroyer of Worlds” trope here.

All in all, an interesting setting, but one I would’ve liked more answers about, just I would’ve liked Sophie to be less of a “tourist”.

NB: ARC version, with a few errors that may be gone by the time the book hits the shelves. (Verena is called “Thorna” a couple of times: a remnant of a former version, or some subtlety I didn’t catch?)

Yzabel / June 13, 2014

Review: Crushed (Soul Eaters 2)

Crushed by Eliza Crewe

My rating: [rating=5]

Summary:

Meda Melange has officially hung up her monstrous mantle and planted her feet firmly on the holy and righteous path of a Crusader-in-training. Or, at least, she’s willing to give it a shot. It helps that the Crusaders are the only thing standing between her and the demon hordes who want her dead.

The problem is, the only people less convinced than Meda of her new-found role as Good Girl are the very Crusaders she’s trying to join. So when a devilishly handsome half-demon boy offers escape, how’s a girl supposed to say “no?”

After all, everyone knows a good girl’s greatest weakness is a bad boy.

Review:

(I received an ARC of this novel through NetGalley, in exchange for an honest review.)

4.5 stars, rounded to 5 because this book did something other books seldom do: eliciting feelings in me.

You see, I’m a cold-hearted person. Not as in cruel and mean, but as in, someone who very seldom cries, who’s seldom moved by emotional scenes, and so on. The few things that make me reach such a state aren’t the usual kind of triggers; I don’t shed tears over characters dying, romantic scenes, happy-ever-after moments. In fact, it’s so random I couldn’t even explain what may or may not trigger a reaction, whatever reaction, in me.

Meda’s voice does. I don’t know how, I don’t know why. Perhaps it’s her acceptance that she’s bad, that something in her is utterly rotten (she’s half-demon, after all). Perhaps it’s the fact she doesn’t delude herself when it comes to being liked by others, or to the guy she may or may not fall in love with. Perhaps it’s how she feels she tries hard, but realises in the end that she should also have tried to understand others. She’s not perfect, she knows it, she’s not trying to be—just being “good enough” would already be a great step, but can someone who needs to ear souls ever be “good enough”? Her eating the souls of bad guys only could seem a rationalisation… or simply a fact: when the only other solution is starving yourself, how many of us would actually be “good enough” to do that? So she goes after bad guys—psychopathic killers, child molesters—and eat their souls, because it’s the least of two evils, yet while she jokes about being a super heroine, going about vigilante business, she still acknowledges that she’s part monster, and will always be.

She’s not perfect. She makes mistakes. She misunderstands people, people misunderstand her. But she learns. She accepts facts in the end, seeing them for what they were, for something she failed to notice. She owns up to her mistakes, tries to correct them, takes responsibility for her actions. And she’s also angry and frustrated, so much that I could feel her anger poring through the pages. I especially liked that contrary to a lot of teens in YA fiction, her reasons were both selfish (it was about “me, me, me” at first, in that she saw things from her side of the barrier only) and understandable: the bullying, people automatically disliking her at school because she’s a half-demon, the adults seemingly turning a blind eye on it, humiliating punishments that only furthered the bullying… She was under scrutiny because of her nature, but it felt as if she was expected to do better than any other “good” person in the world, while being set up for failure. (I don’t know, but if someone’s half-demon, expecting them to be Mother Teresa is kind of asking for them to fail, isn’t it?) Meda was self-centered and didn’t understand Jo’s attempts at warning her, at protecting her; however, I think a lot of people would’ve felt the same in her situation. And later, when she discovers the true reasons behind what happened, she accepts them, accepts that she has to understand.

Meda’s friendship with Jo: another beautiful thing in this story. They both have their own very special personalities, they’ve been through fire together, they don’t entirely trust each other, and paradoxically, the latter grounds their relationship into something deeper, stronger, because it holds one important promise: the day real trust is born, is the day their friendship knows no bounds. In the meantime, they’re kidn of circling each other, watching each other. It’s not a girly kind of friendship. They don’t bond over boys, over one common interest that may or may not last. But it runs deep, to the point of self-sacrifice… not only on Jo’s part (knowing her character, that must’ve been one hard thing to do for Jo, by the way).

And when a half-demon is led to self-sacrifice, this also tells you something about her, about whether her nature binds her so much, whether Armand is right in telling her Hell is the only place for her… or not. Meda knowing she’s a monster, and not refuting it, Meda teetering on the brink of that one important decision (join the demons or remain faithful to the Crusaders, even though they want her dead), are, in my opinion, what could make her achieve her own “goodness”: not a saintly one, but one that defies her origins.

Love interest: there is one, but not too much. Here, we don’t go through the “redeem the bad boy” trope, or starry-eyed love. While Meda and Armand are clearly attracted to each other, they also know that sooner or later, they may stand on different sides. Meda is aware she may have to kill him someday; indeed, no delusions here, and no glorious promises of Love Eternal either. They both hang out together for their own selfish reasons, they both say it openly, they both accept it in each other. It’s a really nice break from the usual teen romance I see in YA books nowadays.

Also, they kill. They go through with their murders, they don’t bail out at the last moment. Another nice break from all the “assassins who fail to kill” stories.

The Crusaders: horrible in many ways, justified in others. What they did to Meda, refusing to give her a say when it was time to test one specific kind of magic on her, was shocking; however, when Meda had a choice, the person who seemed so bad, so cruel at first turned out to be pretty decent—and he wasn’t the only one. It’s never sp black and white with them as you think it is.

The one qualm I have with this book is that it felt slow in the beginning, especially compared to the first novel in the series. Meda’s voice and what I could sense between the lines prevented this from being too much of a problem, but I was still glad when the pace picked up.