contemporary Archives - Page 6 of 7

Yzabel / January 25, 2015

Review: Zombies – More Recent Dead

Zombies: More Recent Dead by Paula Guran

My rating: [rating=4]

Summary:

The living dead are more alive than ever! Zombies have become more than an iconic monster for the twenty-first century: they are now a phenomenon constantly revealing as much about ourselves – and our fascination with death, resurrection, and survival – as our love for the supernatural or post-apocalyptic speculation. Our most imaginative literary minds have been devoured by these incredible creatures and produced exciting, insightful, and unflinching new works of zombie fiction. We’ve again dug up the best stories published in the last few years and compiled them into an anthology to feed your insatiable hunger…

Review:

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

Anthologies are always difficult for me to rate—so many different stories, so many authors, and you know you’re bound to find very good pieces, and some you don’t like at all. As far as collections go, this one about zombies was a fairly good one, all in all, that I would rate a 3.5 to 4 stars.

(Also, the time I spend reading a book is usually a good indicator of my interest in it, but in this case, it doesn’t apply. I was reading a couple of other zombie-themed books in the meantime, and I preferred to go slow, rather than eat too much of the same thing at once. pun totally intended, of course.)

My favourites:
– “Iphigenia in Aulis”: the story that spun “The Girl With All The Gifts”, so no surprise here. Reading this “first draft” was interesting, even though I liked the novel better (since it was more developed).
– “The Naturalist”: nasty and vicious undertones here.
– “What Maisie Knew”: a dark and twisted take on what use zombies can be. Somehow it also made me think of “Lolita”, probably because of the way the narrator views himself?
– “The Day the Music Died”: a manager trying to cover up that his money-making rock-star is actually dead. This one had a twisted, funny side that spoke to me. Don’t ask me why.
– “The Death and Life of Bob”: how zombies are not necessarily what you expect… and how dark and narrow-minded humans can be, too.
– “Jack and Jill”: parallels between the zombies and a child who’s sick with cancer and already a “living dead”, in that he knows he probably won’t stay in remission for long. (The fact that *I* actually enjoyed a story with cancer in it is mind-boggling, and speaks of how it managed to make me forget my own fears in that regard.)
– “The Gravedigger of Konstan Spring”: a remote little town where people don’t seem to stay dead for long. Disturbing, strange, quirky, and full of moments when I wondered to which extent the inhabitants would go to keep their gravedigger.
– “Chew”: disturbing not for its take on zombies, but for what actual human beings can do to other human beings.
– “What We Once Feared”: another story bent on revealing how bleak human nature can be, and how dire situations can reveal the worst in people.
– “Aftermath”: the title says it all. How people manage and how life gets back on track slowly after the cure to the zombie-virus has been found. Disturbing aspects about what killing those “zombies” actually meant.
– “Love, Resurrected”: a dark fantasy tale of sorcery, necromancy, and of a woman who has to keep battling even after the flesh has left her bones.
– “Present”: sad and touching in a terrible way.
– “Bit Rot”: when a zombie story collides with science-fiction of the space-travelling kind. The reason behind the “bit rot” was a nice change for me.

OK stories:
– “The Afflicted”: I liked the idea behind it (the elderly ones only falling ill… alas, everybody’s doom to grow old), but it deflated a bit after a while.
– “Becca at the End of the World”: the last hour of a teenager. However, it was a little too short to be as powerful as it could be IMHO.
– “Delice”: not one I’ll remember for long, but nice to read
– “Trail of Dead”: good concept, but I’m not too sure of the apprentice’s part in that (it seemed unfocused).
– “Stemming the Tide”: a little weird, though also poetic in its own way.
– “Those Beneath the Bog”: the curse on a lake, and how old folk tales shouldn’t be discarded. Perhaps a wee bit too long, though.
– “What Still Abides”: very, very weird, in that it tries to emulate Old English grammar. I can’t make up my mind about it, but overall, it still felt strange in a sort of good way for me.
– “In The Dreamtime of Lady Resurrection”: beautiful and dreamy. Not exactly a zombie story, though.
– “‘Til Death Do Us Part”: not exactly original, still enjoyable. A wife comes back from the grave, and her family tries to keep her with them.
– “The Harrowers”: the narrator’s name kind of tiped me about the ending, however it remained interesting.
– “Resurgam”: a good idea that unfortunately ended up in two storylines not meshing up together well. I still liked the Victorian narrative, though.
– “A Shepherd of the Valley”: a bit predictable.
– “The Hunt: Before and The Aftermath”: I wasn’t sure at first where this one was going, but it had interesting insights into revenge in general.

The ones I didn’t like:
– “Dead Song”: I didn’t care for the actor-narrating-story approach. Another one might have worked better, because there was a good idea behind it.
– “Pollution”: I like Japanese culture, but the tropes were too heavy-handed here.
– “Kitty’s Zombie New Year”: forgettable, I didn’t really see the point to this story.
– “Selected Sources for the Babylonian Plague of the Dead”: the narrative style didn’t do it for me at all here. Which is really too bad, because the different setting made for quite interesting grounds.
– “Rocket Man”: I don’t know if it was meant to be comical or not. It didn’t leave much of an impression (but then, I’m not too interested in base-ball for starters, which doesn’t help).
– “I Waltzed with a Zombie”: I couldn’t push myself to get interested in it, I don’t know why. I neither adore nor terribly dislike Hollywood B-movie settings in general, so maybe it was the narrative that didn’t grab me.

Note: A couple of stories are actually in poetic form, which makes them harder to rate (yes, including Neil Gaiman’s one).

Yzabel / January 21, 2015

Review: Wish You Weren’t

Wish You Weren’t by Sherrie Petersen

My rating: [rating=3]

Summary:

Marten doesn’t believe in the power of wishes. None of his have ever come true. His parents ignore him, his little brother is a pain and his family is talking about moving to Texas. Not cool. So when he makes an impulsive wish during a meteor shower, he doesn’t expect it to make any difference.

Until his annoying brother disappears.

With the present uncertain and his brother’s future in limbo, Marten finds himself stuck in his past. And if he runs out of time, even wishes might not be enough to save the ones he loves.

Review:

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

A quick and entertaining read, that could appeal to a lot of middle-graders, especially the first-borns who (like me *wink* *wink*) found themselves “trapped” at 11-12 with a younger sibling they had to be responsible for, and burdened with the feeling that life was so unfair. Seriously, even 20-odd years later, I could still relate, remembering how that was the way I felt towards my own sister at the time. A book that can appeal to older readers through the chasm of time, well, isn’t that something?

The story was sometimes pretty bizarre, and I suppose I would’ve liked some parts to be better explained (let’s just say Tör isn’t the most straightforward character when it comes to answering questions). It may or may not be a problem, in that having such answers doesn’t really matter in the end, but not having them made things a little confusing, so it’s a tie here. For instance, I would’ve liked to see more of the watches, how exactly they worked, etc: not essential to the story and the message it conveys… but still something that would titillate my curiosity. The shooting stars part felt confusing somewhat confusing, and a couple of points (such as, people able to see the characters when they weren’t supposed to) were maybe too easily chalked out to “things aren’t working as intended”, without anything to support the why and how behind it.

The characterss reactions weren’t always the most clever, to be honest. However, being 12 and stranded and without any advice to go by, I guess you can’t help but making mistakes. I wouldn’t have forgiven this is an older character; I could forgive Marten, though, all the more because he also realised soon enough how exactly he felt about his brother, whose “fault” things were, and because he grew up in the process, becoming more understanding of the people around him.

This book is also interesting for its bits of astronomy: not too many, nothing impossible to understand for a younger reader, and at the same time this is something that could make one look further (which is also why the book provides links at the end, towards various websites about the Hubble telescope and other astronomy-related themes).

In short: a pretty sweet novel, with a few holes, but nonetheless enjoyable for younger readers.

Yzabel / January 20, 2015

Review: The Silence of Six

The Silence of Six by E.C. Myers

My rating: [rating=3]

Summary:

“What is the silence of six, and what are you going to do about it?”

These are the last words uttered by 17-year-old Max Stein’s best friend, Evan: Just moments after hacking into the live-streaming Presidential debate at their high school, he kills himself.

Haunted by the image of Evan’s death, Max’s entire world turns upside down as he suddenly finds himself the target of a corporate-government witch-hunt. Fearing for his life and fighting to prove his own innocence, Max goes on the run with no one to trust and too many unanswered questions.

Max must dust off his own hacking skills and maneuver the dangerous labyrinth of underground hacktivist networks, ever-shifting alliances, and virtual identities — all while hoping to find the truth behind the “Silence of Six” before it’s too late.

Review:

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

3.5 stars, because the book wasn’t without faults. In fact, I’d probably give it 4 stars in other circumstances—that is, if I didn’t know a lot to the online world, computers in general, and hackers. Some parts I found to be too “didactic”, which would be good for a reader with a less technological background, yet tended to become annoying after a while (I really don’t need to be taught what a DDoS attack is). However, this is a “it’s not you, it’s me” kind of fault, and I don’t doubt it’s precisely what would help another person enjoy the story more.

The events in the last third of the book also seemed to move just a tad bit too fast, making things somewhat confusing. I guess I would have liked to see more hide and seek there? Or a different approach? It’s actually hard to tell. I just know that I went “huh?” in a couple of places.

I liked the main characters, the ways they went through to meeting, and how they generally thought of clever little tricks to avoid being noticed (how to trick facial recognition software, etc.). Perhaps their relationship was a little forced, but it didn’t matter that much within the flow of the story.

The reflections the book leads to when it comes to social media and their impact on our lives, were interesting as well. So many people use their real names on such media, handing out very specific information, without realising that it could be exploited. Reminding this to younger readers (middle-schoolers, the “YA crowd”…) is certainly not a bad idea at all. Anyway, the use of social media, through the giant “Panjea”, was both a reminder and a wink, and I appreciate that kind of things.

Overall, it was a light, fast-paced read that could be quite enjoyable for a lot of readers. Had I been “younger” (less experienced, with less computer/online knowledge than I have now), I’d probably have given it 4 stars.

Yzabel / October 19, 2014

Review: The Schwarzschild Radius

The Schwarzschild Radius by Gustavo Florentin

My rating: [rating=4]

Summary:

Rachel, an 18-year-old Columbia University student, descends into the netherworld of runaways and predators to find her sister, Olivia, who has suddenly disappeared.

After getting a job in a strip joint where Olivia worked, then doing private shows in the homes of rich clients, Rachel discovers that Olivia has been abducted by a killer who auctions the deaths of young girls in an eBay of agony.

When she finds Olivia, Rachel becomes the killer’s next target.

Review:

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

3.5 stars, veering towards a 4.

Very graphic in parts, and not shying away from dealing with the darkest recesses of the human soul. This might turn off some people, so if depictions of child pornography rings, sex slaves and peep-show practices are something a reader doesn’t want to read about, then better not pick up this novel. Personally, I found it fascinating in a trainwreck way: you can’t help but watch, even though it’s disgusting, and it makes you think about all those people, about depravity, about how low a human being can fall.

Rachel struck me as a resourceful young woman with guts, and overall smart enough to discover a lot on her own quickly enough to avoid falling down as well—because things seemed to move fast, and I have no doubt that once caught in such a spiral, every day spent in it would’ve made it harder and harder for her to go back, as well as to keep the peep show sessions and private parties to a “manageable” level. She was determined to find her sister at all costs; also, she cared about Achara, which was very humane. The one qualm I have with her is that the mistake that made everything speed up was, frankly, a pretty basic one, and I’m still wondering if she shouldn’t have been able to avoid it, considering how savvy she was overall. But I’m not sure either (even though, when the first tell-tale sign occurred, I immediately thought “something’s wrong here”), and I wouldn’t consider that as “too stupid to live” syndrome in any case.

The main female characters in general did what they could with what they had. It may not have been much, but when they had an opportunity to do something (try to escape, help each other, try to hurt the culprit…), they seized it. That it worked or not didn’t matter: they still tried, even though their trials were a very dire ones and they could’ve given up a long time ago. Each of them turned out strong in her own way, fighting until the end.

The plot itself moved at a fast enough pace, with a lot of suspense. Some events that appeared as strange actually made a lot of sense a couple of chapters later, and I liked how the author managed to “trap” me here the same way he did the characters. It was an interesting process to go through.

On the downside, I found the narrative a bit disjointed at times, as if it was trying to get faster to the next part, with the seams somewhat forgotten along the way. The writing style felt the same in a few places. Nothing terribly annoying, but still enough that I noticed it. I also wished it dealt more with Olivia’s actions: what exactly happened to make her go from volunteering to the underworld? (Obviously she was in for the money for a reason I won’t spoil, obviously she didn’t choose to be picked by the Webmaster, and was no doubt abducted, but while we’re given clear reasons about Rachel’s behaviour leading her exactly in the same situation—she was investigating and looking for her sister, after all—Olivia’s were more muddled. As if there was another, hiden reason that was never revealed. It may be a false impression on my part, only considering all the trouble Rachel went through, I definitely would’ve wanted to learn more.)

Yzabel / September 18, 2014

Review: Afterworlds

Afterworlds by Scott Westerfeld

My rating: [rating=2]

Summary:

Darcy Patel has put college and everything else on hold to publish her teen novel, Afterworlds. Arriving in New York with no apartment or friends she wonders whether she’s made the right decision until she falls in with a crowd of other seasoned and fledgling writers who take her under their wings… Told in alternating chapters is Darcy’s novel, a suspenseful thriller about Lizzie, a teen who slips into the ‘Afterworld’ to survive a terrorist attack. But the Afterworld is a place between the living and the dead and as Lizzie drifts between our world and that of the Afterworld, she discovers that many unsolved – and terrifying – stories need to be reconciled. And when a new threat resurfaces, Lizzie learns her special gifts may not be enough to protect those she loves and cares about most.

Review:

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

Pretty interesting premise, but in the end I found the execution wanting, and the stories not that interesting, unfortunately.

I really liked the beginning: Darcy having to navigate her way in New York, meeting published authors as well as other “debs” like her (people whose book was to be published in the upcoming months), having to take editing and rewriting tasks into account… The first pages of Lizzie’s story were gripping, too, and I appreciated how we’re shown the final version of Darcy’s book, running parallel to her own editing of the first draft, with all the pitfalls that were in it (exposition chapters, huge info-dumps…) and were then removed. As someone who likes writing, too,
I couldn’t help but find this comment about the YA scene and authors’ jobs quite interesting. The book is full of little allusions to similar themes: Darcy obviously wrote her novel during NaNoWriMo 2012, the Darcy/Lizzie hint at “Pride and Prejudice” is totally acknowledged, the authors debate about what’s more important (plot? characters? conflict? setting?), and so on.

However, a lot of aspects in “Afterworlds” were problematic.

For starters, I’m not sure YA readers not specifically interested in writing would “get it”. Clearly it’s going to be a hit-or-miss here.

Also, the characters weren’t that impressive. Those from Darcy’s novel were rather bland in my opinion, and what I may deem “typical YA cut-outs”. Yamaraj: the mysterious love interest without much of a personality. Jamie: the best friend who, in Darcy’s copy-editor’s own terms, “has car, lives with father”, and not much more. In fact, Darcy’s novel would have deserved to stand on its own, because it would’ve allowed the author to properly develop its world and characters, and make it the gripping idea it seemed to be in the beginning. (I’m still convinced that opening scene in the airport is a proper attention-catcher.)

Darcy was definitely annoying: totally immature, without any sense of responsibility (she missed so many deadlines, such as the ones for college applications, lease renewal, and her writing was two inches from going the same way), jumping to conclusions, thinking in terms of the world revolving around her… Defects I would’ve happily forgiven, if she had learnt from them, but she didn’t. And in the end? In the end, Little Miss Lucky still got lucky, still landed an astonishing deal, still managed to waltz out of problems without that much of a hitch. All things that are potential insults at actual writers, the large majority that doesn’t land an agent after just a few weeks of querying, nor a $300,000 book deal for his/her first novel. I’m all in favour of selling dreams, but those were too much a matter of dumb luck, not of work and personal improvement. I didn’t root for Darcy at all. (I was also rather miffed at her plot taking a “let’s focus on the love relationship” turn. There were so many other things it could have focused on…)

Mostly, I felt that this book had great potential in being a pretty good parody, but couldn’t make up its mind about being one or not. Why a parody? For all the jabs at YA novels, at their shortcomings, elements I tend to notice as well when I read such stories. “Afterworlds” could be an excellent critique of the current market—a market I personally find saturated with cookie-cutter themes and plots (the same old kind of love interest, the same trend of characters whose questionable decisions put them in the too-stupid-to-live category…). Unfortunately, the way it is, it fell into the exact pit traps it (unconsciously or not?) denounced.

A note as well about a few questions raised throughout Darcy’s narrative. There was an interesting discussion about culture appropriation, and how Darcy’s use of Yama, an actual deity from Hindu mythology, amounted to erasing Hinduism, or at least part of it, from her world, by not openly acknowledging him as part of this religion. I found this point very valid. And yet, at the same time, Darcy herself represents a removal of cultural heritage: she’s of Indian origin, but apart from her surname and physical description, she’s the typical “white protagonist”. (She’s not religious, her family isn’t particularly religious either, they all behave like standard Americans in novels… In other words: why make her from a different culture, if it’s not to use it? Was it just for the sake of having a non-white protagonist… or, on the contrary, to point at how many other novels appropriate various cultures, only to “whiten” them?)

The underlying critique is definitely present, and something I can’t help thinking about, wondering if it was on purpose, or totally accidental. I don’t know how to take this novel, except with a grain of salt. I’m giving it 2 stars because of the parody it could be, one that made me snicker and nod my head in acknowledgment. But story-wise, I think it should either have been made a stronger read (as it was, it became boring rather quickly), or have gone all the way as a more obvious means of denouncing the many problems going rampant in the YA publishing industry. If it’s one, I’m not sure that many people will realise it, unfortunately (and especially not younger readers—not because they’re young, just because they may not have the necessary reading background to see the critique I mentioned).

Yzabel / August 25, 2014

Review: The Anatomy of Dreams

The Anatomy of Dreams: A Novel by Chloe Benjamin

My rating: [rating=3]

Summary:

It’s 1998, and Sylvie Patterson, a bookish student at a Northern California boarding school, falls in love with a spirited, elusive classmate named Gabe. Their headmaster, Dr. Adrian Keller, is a charismatic medical researcher who has staked his career on the therapeutic potential of lucid dreaming: By teaching his patients to become conscious during sleep, he helps them to relieve stress and heal from trauma. Over the next six years, Sylvie and Gabe become consumed by Keller’s work, following him from the redwood forests of Eureka, California, to the enchanting New England coast.

But when an opportunity brings the trio to the Midwest, Sylvie and Gabe stumble into a tangled relationship with their mysterious neighbors—and Sylvie begins to doubt the ethics of Keller’s research, recognizing the harm that can be wrought under the guise of progress. As she navigates the hazy, permeable boundaries between what is real and what isn’t, who can be trusted and who cannot, Sylvie also faces surprising developments in herself: an unexpected infatuation, growing paranoia, and a new sense of rebellion.

In stirring, elegant prose, Benjamin’s tale exposes the slippery nature of trust—and the immense power of our dreams.

Review:

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

2.5 stars because I liked the concepts in this book, but found the execution wanting.

The story bounces between a few time periods, allowing us to see what’s happening in two “levels of present” (the first one being Madison, where Sylvie and Gave meet Janna and Thom) and two “levels of past” (high school time, then the beginning of Sylvie’s involvement in Keller’s research). I’m mentioning this because it can be a potential deterrent to some readers. As far as I’m concerned, it’s a kind of narrative style I tend to enjoy, and since I had no problems following it and piecing things together, I’m putting it in my “I like it” category. There was just one part, though, towards the last third, where I felt that it wasn’t handled that well. Too bad.

My feelings when it comes to the characters remain lukewarm. The story’s entirely told from Sylvie’s point of view, but in the end, I’m not sure I got to “know” her. Same with Gabe and Keller, perhaps even worse. They all seemed to be here for the plot, and not as full-fledged people. Granted, their research consumed a lot of their life during the course of the novel, yet I think I would’ve felt Sylvie’s plight much more if I could have related to her as to a “real” person (no need for she and I to have anything in common: just more character development in general). There’s her painting, but what about Gabe’s occupations? Was there only work here? What about Janna, who was definitely in a good position to notice what was going on? There would have been more to tell about them all, and the lack of such information, in the end, diminished in my opinion the ethical questions surrounding Keller’s research, as well as the degree to which each of them was influenced by the experiments.

To be honest, I was probably waiting for something different, something more linked to the theme of lucid dreaming: Sylvie really not knowing what was real and what wasn’t, for instance, or other people displaying such characteristics. The blurb was in fact more exciting than the story itself, all the more because I’m always eager to read anything that has to do with dreams, nightmares, and blurred reality boundaries. The story showed one patient being submitted to the experiment, and spoke of another one whose actions might or might not have been a direct result of Keller’s study. There was a lot of potential here for dilemmas of various kinds; however, the characters often danced around the issues, only confronted them now and then, and I found this slightly frustrating.

On the plus side, the writing style itself was pleasant enough, beautiful while remaining believable for a first person point of view narrative.

Yzabel / August 20, 2014

Review: The Fault in Our Stars

The Fault in Our Stars by John Green

My rating: [rating=1]

Summary:

Despite the tumor-shrinking medical miracle that has bought her a few years, Hazel has never been anything but terminal, her final chapter inscribed upon diagnosis. But when a gorgeous plot twist named Augustus Waters suddenly appears at Cancer Kid Support Group, Hazel’s story is about to be completely rewritten.

Review:

I’m not at ease with cancer stories. That illness itself makes me shudder; I might go as far as to say I’m even mildly phobic about it. But I still wanted to check this book, after reading so many good reviews about it, and after I was told that it wasn’t so much about vivid descriptions of cancer itself. So, when it popped up at the library near my parents’ home, I seized the opportunity.

Well, I might be a horrible, callous person, because I just don’t get the whole tear-inducing, heart-wrenching hype around this novel. Or maybe whatever passes for a heart in my chest cavity was too busy rolling its metaphorical eyes at all the pompousness, which for me totally ruined the story. It made me wonder if a thesaurus was harmed, raped and defaced in the process. When using Big Words, the least one can do is to us Big Words That Actually Mean What They’re Supposed To Mean. (Definition of hamartia: the error in judgement that causes the hero to achieve the opposite of what s/he meant, leading to the actual tragedy. Not just any character flaw.) This is not how I, of all people, could be touched, not when I’m too busy wondering who the hell talks like that.

Hazel struck me as pretentious, and incredibly judgemental when it came to a lot of people around her. Gallows humour I could definitely take, understand, and appreciate—but this wasn’t humour. This was just demeaning. The way she spoke of the support group and of Patrick, as if his life had no value? Disgusting:

“…the relief that he escaped lo those many years ago when cancer took both of his nuts but spared what only the most generous soul would call his life.”

I sure couldn’t empathise with her attitude towards her parents at times (how dare they show feelings and cry; or wake her up at 5:30 in the morning to prepare and board the plane to go to Amsterdam; or send her to support group, instead of allowing her to basically be already dead in
her everyday life). Even her attitude towards her teachers, when she attended morning classes.

And the “metaphors”. That whole thing with the eggs and breakfast foods and me going “can we get to some actual point, and not some stupid rambling about a topic that I wouldn’t even tackle if I were completely wasted?” Or the hurdles:

“And I wondered if hurdlers ever thought, you know, This would go faster if we just got rid of the hurdles.”

That’s not philosophical. That’s idiotic.

The love-at-first-sight trope seldom works for me, and it didn’t work here either. It turned the narrative into something rather cheesy, especially with all the pompous dialogues. (Seriously, I’ve met my share of university teachers and educated people in general… and we just don’t talk like that, certainly not without preparing our speeches first. So teenagers, no matter how smart? Sorry, I just can’t believe it.)

Somehow, it reminded me of some of the stuff I wrote when I was 15-16, and found recently at the bottom of a cardboard box. I remembered those “pieces” as witty, smart, full of deep meaning. I remembered writing them with such goals in mind. I was good at writing, too; I always had top grades in French and Literature classes. Then I read those again—now, that is, 20 years later—and I realised how full of myself I was at the time, and how my Big Words And Sentences were in fact just so shallow. The characters here, and their way of talking and being, left me with the same feeling. They never seemed to leave the surface level. Now that I’m done with the book, I still don’t know what Hazel likes (apart from An Imperial Affliction and her favourite TV show), what else she used to do before being diagnosed, and so on. She’s defined by 1) her illness (though said illness looked kind of like a ploy to elicit emotion, rather than anything else) and 2) Augustus, and… What else? I have no idea.

I think it could’ve been a great story… only without its pretentiousness, without its flat characters, and without its tendency to take the reader by the hand to put his/her nose into the supposed deep meaning hidden within the pages. When you feel like a novel is trying to manipulate you, is when suspension of disbelief shatters.

Yzabel / August 16, 2014

Review: Tell The Wolves I’m Home

Tell The Wolves I’m Home by Carol Rifka Brunt

My rating: [rating=3]

Summary:

1987. There is only one person who has ever truly understood fourteen year old June Elbus, and that’s her uncle, the renowned painter, Finn Weiss. Shy at school and distant from her older sister, June can only be herself in Finn’s company; he is her godfather, confidant, and best friend. So when he dies, far too young, of a mysterious illness her mother can barely speak about, June’s world is turned upside down. But Finn’s death brings a surprise acquaintance into June’s life-someone who will help her to heal, and to question what she thinks she knows about Finn, her family, and even her own heart.

Review:

Overall I liked this novel. It is a story of pain, of love, with both touching and tense moments, and the way it tackles the theme of AIDS works well within the chosen context (1987). I was only 8 in 1987, yet I still remember that people were scared and didn’t understand what it was all about. I still remember asking my own mother, frightened, “Mom, will I get AIDS, too?” The whole fear and rejection permeating this novel, the way people considered this disease as “gay-only”… it all ties up within that scare, and some of the characters’ reactions are thus rendered mean not out of sheer nastiness, but fear, ignorance, and misunderstanding. As annoying as those are, they remain, well, human.

Indeed, the characters weren’t particularly likeable—there were times when I just wanted to slap them. Greta for being cruel instead of saying from the beginning what she really felt and wanted. June for being so self-centred and oblivious to other people around her, focused on Finn, Finn, Finn only—good thing she grows up a little in that regard. The absentee father, and the mother who was quick to judge. Part of me didn’t like them, yet part of me also found them flawed in a human way. They acted out of loneliness, out of love, out of jealousy—all too human, again.

I must say that I really liked Toby, who had to remain hidden and would have ended up alone in his grief. He seemed so lost, and his feelings shone through that loss with an acute honesty, underlined by genuine smiles and spontaneity. I perceived him as someone who had had to pay for one mistake, didn’t have much luck, who finally found true love, only to lose it again, and be shunned in the process. I don’t think he deserved that. Nobody does.

However, I think that the portrayal of AIDs in general, how it was perceived at the time, is a strength, but also a weakness in this story. While it made sense to me as an adult who remembers that period, I think it wasn’t properly exploited in a novel for younger people who didn’t live at that time. When you read this book in “my” light, it’s quite accurate in showing the irrational ways some people reacted; when you don’t have the necessary hindsight, it actually doesn’t do much to dispel all those “only gay guys get AIDS and OMG don’t touch them they’re dangerous!” notions. In that regard, I wish Tell The Wolves Are Home had gone further, shown more obviously how things changed for some of the characters, instead of relying on hints. Usually, I’m not too fond of novels that lay it thick; here, it may not have been thick enough, and the complex dynamics within the Elbus family (Finn included) weren’t fully exploited.

In fact, in my opinion, it would have needed to be more openly confrontational sometimes. Somehow, the characters didn’t really faced the consequences of their choices when it cames to shutting out good people out of their lives just for having AIDS. Somehow, they got away with too many shitty decisions, and this with barely some sliver of guilt. No, it’s not OK to threaten to kick your brother out of your life and deny him his nieces just for being in love, for being unlucky regarding sickness—nor to force the poor bloke he’s living with to stay in the cellar, pretending not to exist, while the girls believed Finn lived alone. How callous can people be? I really wish Danni would have been called on her bullshit there.

(Also, I could say the same for some triggers in it—that they’d have needed to be shown in a different way. Like, Toby and June smoking together, doing things together in secrecy. I got how Toby must’ve felt lost, and some people, when they’re like that, stop thinking and don’t always make the best decisions. June’s narrative should’ve made this obvious, yet didn’t. In turn, it just made it seem like he was potentially getting her into drugs, rape-inducing/paedophiliac situations, and so on. The girl being only 14 may explain her lack of insight; still, it’s a slippery slope, and could probably have been avoided.)

Still 3 stars for me because in the end, I liked it, I liked its depiction of the way everyone reacted to that specific disease in that specific era, no matter how ugly and stupid their reactions. But I’m not too happy about how some aspects panned out. Maybe because it’s YA—maybe it’s too focused on the “misunderstood teenager” side, instead of really going the whole way, that is, the mislabelled people whose “crime” was to have hit an unlucky spot and fallen sick.

Yzabel / August 15, 2014

Review: Dear Daughter

Dear Daughter by Elizabeth Little

My rating: [rating=3]

Summary:

‘As soon as they processed my release Noah and I hit the ground running. A change of clothes. A wig. An inconspicuous sedan. We doubled back once, twice, then drove south when we were really headed east. In San Francisco we had a girl who looked like me board a plane to Hawaii.

Oh, I thought I was so clever.

But you probably already know that I’m not.’

LA IT girl Janie Jenkins has it all. The looks, the brains, the connections. The criminal record.

Ten years ago, in a trial that transfixed America, Janie was convicted of murdering her mother. Now she’s been released on a technicality she’s determined to unravel the mystery of her mother’s last words, words that send her to a tiny town in the very back of beyond. But with the whole of America’s media on her tail, convinced she’s literally got away with murder, she has to do everything she can to throw her pursuers off the scent.

She knows she really didn’t like her mother. Could she have killed her?

Review:

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

Dear Daughter was a compelling enough story, but I admit I thought I’d like it more. There were several moments in which the pace dragged down and the story didn’t seem to progress much, and the characters didn’t exactly “fill” those moments either.

Though Jane Jenkins isn’t exactly a likeable protagonist, because of her demeaning attitude, I still liked her in general: she calls other people on their crap, sure, but she does the same when she’s concerned, which is enough of a redeeming feature in my eyes. I can’t say I smiled at all her quips (some were really not great); nevertheless, she was mildly amusing. Also, I tend to appreciate characters that aren’t necessarily nice and kind. Jane had her manipulative streak, tempered by the fact she had been in prison for ten years, and sometimes this made her a little rusty, thus not perfect at her own game. Sometimes, she was clever. At other times, she realised she had made some huge blunder… and she considered it as her own, not pinning it down on someone else, even though her tone might make it appear so.

The Ardelle setting was interesting, too: derelict twin little towns, founded during the Gold Rush yet doomed to die with it, with five old families pretending that everything was nice and dandy, except every closet has its skeleton, of course. I could feel the desperate “I hate this place, but I still can’t leave” atmosphere. No matter what, I wanted to read about them, be on the ride with Jane as she uncovered bit by bit who they were, their relationships, and how they may have factored in her mother’s death.

The mixed media approach, with snippets from blogs, Wikipedia, etc.: I like this format, though I can’t tell all of those excerpts always added a lot to the story.

On the dowside, at times the secondary characters just seemed too helpful for the sake of being helpful. Jane’s identity as “Rebecca” may have fooled them, sure, but it wasn’t so perfect, and I would have expected more ruthlessness, more distrust than what was shown, more tension, in a way. Even the cop’s presence didn’t make things that exciting (also, random vague love/sex interest that wasn’t really interesting in my opinion).

I found the plot to be dragging far-fetched and flimsy in places. The clue to Ardelle/Adeline was a rather light one, and I would have found it more believable if Jane had had just a couple more hints about it, thus justifying more strongly her going there. I was given the impression that some huge secret loomed above the town, yet in the end, the aforementioned skeletons were rather… bland, and not so unexpected. This was a bit of a letdown for me. I think the most problematic part, though, was Jane’s own lack of certainty regarding her mother’s murderer: she never appeared as so stoned/drunk/whatever as to prove to me she may genuinely not remember. I don’t know, but the mere adrenaline shot of murdering my mother would most certainly put me out of any drunken stupor I might be in. Either you know or you don’t, and in this case, the mystery of “did she or didn’t she?” seemed like an unfounded device.

The ending… I don’t know about the ending. Somehow, it fits bith the narrative’s tone, yet it made me fell “so, she did all of this for that?” Not very satisfying here.

This novel had its strong points, and my liking Jane’s narative voice helped a lot in my enjoyment of it. Nevertheless, I’m putting it in the “OK-to-good” category, not more.

Yzabel / July 30, 2014

Review: Erased

Erased by Margaret Chatwin

My rating: [rating=4]

Summary:

There’s that moment – you know the moment – when you emerge from sub-consciousness and enter full awareness. Now imagine reaching that moment with a pounding head, throbbing body, hospital ID band around your wrist, and no memory. No idea why you hurt the way you do, or how you got where you are. No clue what your own name is, or who the people next to you are.
I’m seventeen-year-old Ryan Farnsworth, and that’s what happened to me. Now I have to walk a mile in my own, unfamiliar shoes; view myself through the eyes of a perfect stranger; live the life a former me chose. I also need to figure out why that former me tried to kill me.

Review:

(Book read and reviewed for {Read It & Reap 315} in the Shut Up And Read group.)

This is the second book I read by this author, and like the previous one, I found it very easy to get into the story, always wanting to read “just one more chapter” before having to put it down. There was something pretty compelling to the writing, to the way the main character went about his life (though I’d have a hard time explaining how exactly such an effect was achieved).

In any case, I found “Erased” to be an interesting take on the themes of amnesia and, most of all, second chances. Ryan, the main character, is just coming back from a three-month stay in the hospital after a horrible car crash, with barely any memory of his family, his friends, and what his old life used to be. All he knows in the beginning is that his accident was very likely a suicide attempt… but of course, he doesn’t know why he wanted to kill himself, and trying to reclaim his life, in between coping with his body that’s far from done healing, is already hard enough a job as it is.

And this is where things are interesting, because the cracks start quickly showing under an apparently pristine surface, cracks Ryan may or may not have noticed before. Now that he’s more of a watcher, someone who observes the lives of those strangers called “parents” and “brother” and “girlfriend”, he’s also able to see them for what they really are, or at least, for what they might have made him feel before. The teenager he used to be—popular, football star, with plenty of friends and a gorgeous girlfriend—may not have been such a stellar person. Ryan’s brother is clearly hostile, in a justified way that Ryan just can’t understand because, well, he doesn’t remember, all that simply. And then, there’s Paige, the first person Ryan actually makes friends with post-accident, the one he remembers making friends with, which makes a huge difference.

Ryan was given a second chance, one to make things right, or at the very least to realise what was wrong before and not go through the same mistakes again. However, the other thing I really liked in this story was how things seemed very black and white at first, yet always had another edge, depending on whose point of view you relied. For instance, Ryan’s father behaves in a very encouraging way, motivating his son to go through physical therapy, to try and do things by himself (climbing stairs…) and not get caught into remaining physically weakened; Ryan used to be an excellent football player, one who could’ve easily gone to college on a scholarship thanks to that, and his father keeps reminding him of that in order to make him claim back his old life. Only Ryan isn’t so sure anymore he liked football that much, and feels under constant pressure… but he also doesn’t dare tell his father this, caving under this very pressure, when communication could’ve been key here. The same way, both his parents try to help him by throwing a party for him to meet all his family and old friends again, so that he can get reacquainted with them. The result? Ryan feels at unease, overwhelmed, starts to resent their decision—but he doesn’t tell them that meeting those people one by one, gradually, would’ve felt better for him. And Lucas, well, Lucas appears like an asshole to Ryan, for sure. However, his attitude made me wonder: how would I react if someone who had treated me badly for all my life suddenly waltzed back in without any memory, any regret of what s/he did to me? Lucas’s position was one of terrible pent-up frustration with no real outlet, in fact.

Nobody’s perfect here, people keep making mistakes, trying to clutch at memories, at a former life that won’t come back, or not the way it used to be. I thought it was an interesting take on this theme of how to live with amnesia, how to find oneself, and also how good intentions can quickly become hurdles, because nobody’s really equipped to react “the right way” to such trials. There isn’t even a “right way” at all in my opinion.

On the downside, the copy I got could’ve done with another round of edits. I found several typos, mistakes and formatting errors that became annoying after a while. I don’t know if it was my file only, though, or if other editions have the same problem. (It wouldn’t be the first time a file reads oddly on my phone, but not on another tablet. I’ve had it happen regularly with galleys, among other things.)

Then I was torn regarding my feelings about Ryan’s relationships with Paige. What I found more important here was the way things changed between Ryan and Lucas, whether such loathe between brothers could be mended or not, and this was a very moving and beautiful story to read. On the other hand, I felt Paige to be somewhat… just there. As a friend, she was all right; as a love interest, I was never sure if this was a good choice, if it was really that useful. I also wondered about a few other characters in the book, a few other relationships that could’ve been explored deeper (Ryan and his mother, or some of his former friends, mostly): I expected Ryan to pay more attention to those, whether it was to try and get his memories back or to understand better what kind of person he was before and what kind of things he did.

Overall, I’m giving this story 3.5 stars. I’m rounding it to 4 here because, in spite of its shortcomings, I really liked seeing how Ryan discovered the boy he was before, struggled with the idea, yet still tried to get past it and become a better person by learning from his former self. Basically, he had to function differently (if only because he couldn’t rely on even simple physical actions like keeping his balance), and I think he went through this in believable ways, including bouts of depression, of denial, but also of acceptance and will to become a new person, a self he could look in the face without being ashamed.