friendship Archives - The Y Logs

Yzabel / February 24, 2018

Review: They Both Die At The End

They Both Die at the End by Adam Silvera

My rating: [rating=3]

[I received a copy of this book through Edelweiss.]

An alternate-world story where a company named Death-Cast informs people of their impending death, and in which a lot of aspects of society are built around this: ‘Deckers’ (those people who got eh alert that they have less than 24 hours left to live) get meals , night club entrance, etc. free; a lot of blogs get devoted to chronicling their last hours, as they go about trying to make the most of what they have left; and an app, Last Friend, allows people to connect so that they’ll be able to spend that time with someone. (It is to be noted that because D-C only announces the day one is meant to die, and not the causes, a lot of Deckers try not to stay with close friends and relatives, in case their death will be due to a terrorist attack, car crash, or any other type of circumstances that could wound those other people.)

The novel follows two teenagers, Rufus and Mateo, as they meet through Last App and get to live their last day together, making memories, becoming friends, realising what they missed on, but also becoming the people they would’ve liked to be—in a somewhat paradoxical twist, in that perhaps they would never have done that, and perhaps never even known who they wanted to be, had they had their whole lives still ahead. I found this story dealt with its themes in a touching but never depressing manner. I would’ve been very miffed indeed if it had been about moping and lamenting; obviously the two boys aren’t happy about it, but they go around trying to make the most of it, trying things they may not have done on their own, and so on.

Of course, as the title explicitly says, the reader knows from the start that they both die at the end, and part of my interest in this was also to find out how they’d die, if it would leave them enough time to grow into that friendship I was promised, and whether events unfolding around them would indeed be the ones leading to their demise, or not.

I enjoyed the characters in general. Mateo’s way of gingerly opening up to braver actions was adorkable. Rufus had the making of a ‘bad boy’ but also revealed he definitely had a heart of gold. How they go about their last day was empowering. And I also liked the minor characters whose point of view I got to see as well. They were diverse (in many ways, including background, ethnicity and sexual preferences—by default I tend to consider every character as bi unless proven otherwise, cheers for Rufus here), and they allowed me to get a glimpse into the other side, what the living had to go through when confronted with the knowledge that their best friend had received the alert, and what D-C employees and related people also get to feel. (I don’t think spending your career as a customer service rep announcing people they’re going to die before tomorrow is very healthy in the long run.)

For some reason, though, I wasn’t a hundred percent invested in the book. To be fair, I suspect that’s partly because I was invested in interesting non-fiction books at the same time, and those demand more focus and attention from me. But I think that was perhaps also because of the theme: very interesting, yet necessarily leading to ‘live your life to the fullest because you’re not immortal’. Which is true, and expected, and because of this, it makes it hard to deal with it in a way that hasn’t been done already. Another thing I wasn’t sold on was the more romantic involvements; I think full-on friendship would’ve worked better for me.

Conclusion: Perhaps not a definite favourite for me, but I’ll happily pick another story by this author in the future.

Yzabel / August 30, 2015

Review: Mechanica

Mechanica by Betsy Cornwell

My rating: [rating=3]

Blurb:

Nicolette’s awful stepsisters call her “Mechanica” to demean her, but the nickname fits: she learned to be an inventor at her mother’s knee. Her mom is gone now, though, and the Steps have turned her into a servant in her own home.

But on her sixteenth birthday, Nicolette discovers a secret workshop in the cellar and begins to dare to imagine a new life for herself. Could the mysterious books and tools hidden there—and the mechanical menagerie, led by a tiny metal horse named Jules—be the key to escaping her dreary existence? With a technological exposition and royal ball on the horizon, the timing might just be perfect for Nicolette to earn her freedom at last.

Gorgeous prose and themes of social justice and family shine in this richly imagined Cinderella retelling about an indomitable inventor who finds her prince . . . but realizes she doesn’t want a fairy tale happy ending after all.

Review:

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

An interesting retelling of “Cinderella”, in that it veers away from the traditional Happy Ever After being brough by Finding True Love. Not that love isn’t nice, but I’ve always found it a bit… lackluster, in that it feels like a deus ex machina—why would there be any need for resourceful, smart, brave characters, right, since Love is meant to care of everything in the end! So this novel was a definite good change of pace, with Nick/Nicolette/Mechanica basically doing things herself, laying down her own plans and acting on them to get her own workshop. She was determined to reclaim her own life, without waiting on Prince Charming to come to the rescue, and I particularly liked that she realised this and chose her own path when other characters tried to force her into that particular mould.

Last but not least, the story focuses on friendship as a possible form of “love”, which isn’t something that I’ve seen that often in YA books, which too often only consider the couple aspect. Yet love has so many variations, offers so many possibilities…

The world itself was also intriguing, with its mix of steampunk-ish science and faerie wares, with the Fae getting the short end of the stick after having seen their lands conquered by the humans. It was a shame these two civilisations couldn’t coexist peacefully, and it raises the question of whether this could’ve been possible or not, or maybe if one of the sides (or both?) deliberately tried to sabotage relationships. Nick’s recollection of her childhood, of the family’s housekeeper, of her mother’s works—mixing technology and possibly a bit of magic—gave quite a few insights into how things degraded.

However, while the ideas carried through this retelling are excellent, I couldn’t help but be bored at times, as the story progressed rather slowly without exactly more than the basic original plot. Nicolette’s thoughts were not always the most interesting, and even though a Cinderella is supposed to be a solitary creature, so to speak, isolated from the world because of her step family, this resulted in maybe just a little too much beating around the bush. I think more interactions with Caro and Fin would have spiced up things a little, especially considering the relationship that developed between these three characters. Genuine female friendship, and none of the insta-dislike of the other girl because here’s a rival? Hell yeah. On the other hand, the lack of interactions in general made a certain love story border more on insta-love than anything else (not to mention that it developed in Nick’s fantasies more than “in real life”).

The other major “negative” point for me was how so many threads were left dangling. I’m not sure at all if this book is supposed to be a standalone or not. If it isn’t, it wasn’t made clear enough. If it is, then these plot points should’ve been resolved. The Ashes, more specifically, remain a mystery. What about the king’s latest decision regarding Faerie? And while the latter was a good element to include, somehow more details about the Fey themselves would’ve been a nice addition (and nice opportunities for twists and turns): revolution, trying to break the embargo, whatever… Only it didn’t happen. Here’s to hope it will happen in a next volume…

3 stars for the empowering message delivered throughout (make your own life, love yourself, don’t wait on a man to save you), and because I like machines and trinkets. Nevertheless, as it was rather uneventful, I didn’t enjoy it as much as I would’ve otherwise.

Yzabel / July 8, 2015

Review: Serafina and the Black Cloak

Serafina and the Black Cloak by Robert Beatty

My rating: [usr 4]

Blurb:

“Never go into the deep parts of the forest, for there are many dangers there, and they will ensnare your soul.”

Serafina has never had a reason to disobey her pa and venture beyond the grounds of the Biltmore estate.There’s plenty to explore in her grand home, although she must take care to never be seen. None of the rich folk upstairs know that Serafina exists; she and her pa, the estate’s maintenance man, have secretly lived in the basement for as long as Serafina can remember.

But when children at the estate start disappearing, only Serafina knows who the culprit is:a terrifying man in a black cloak who stalks Biltmore’s corridors at night. Following her own harrowing escape, Serafina risks everything by joining forces with Braeden Vanderbilt, the young nephew of the Biltmore’s owners. Braeden and Serafina must uncover the Man in the Black Cloak’s true identity before all of the children vanish one by one.

Serafina’s hunt leads her into the very forest that she has been taught to fear. There she discovers a forgotten legacy of magic, one that is bound to her own identity. In order to save the children of Biltmore, Serafina must seek the answers that will unlock the puzzle of her past.

Review:

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

I will confess to requesting this book mostly because of its cover, in a “oh this looks pretty” moment. I don’t regret it, for the story itself was fairly entertaining as well, and cute to boot.

Serafina lives with her father in the basement of a huge mansion, in the last years of the 19th century in the United States. There’s a slight steampunkish atmosphere to that mansion, as it’s crammed full to the brim of trinkets and machines to make those work, notably the dynamo Sera’s father is in charge of. There’s horror, in the shape of the Man with the Black Cloak, catching children at night and making them disappear within the folds of his costume. There’s magical realism, with the forest, its legends, its old cemetery with a statue of an angel, and a quaint atmosphere, full of gentlemen and ladies, of little girls in nice dresses and little boys with their faithful dog and horses companions. There’s mystery and a sense of adventure, for Serafina knows all the corridors and chimneys and tiny places in which to hide, and moves around unseen, able to spy on people and thus to discover pieces of the puzzle that no one else had.

While the setting might look a bit far-fetched, with its dozens or so or people always staying at Biltmore and its over-a-hundred rooms (although it was indeed a real house, historically speaking), I thought it worked very well for this kind of tale, providing a greater than life place from which it would be nevertheless difficult to escape—and so, of course, the characters had to face whatever awaited them. Surrounded with hills and a mysterious forest, the mansion wasn’t the kind of house you could leave just like that, as doing so implied potential dangerous encounters in the wilderness. The mysterious man on the prowl in the halls at night lent a feeling of foreboding to the story, effectively trapping the children in their rooms… and those who would be walking around at night were sure preys.

Sera’s and Braeden’s friendship was so very cute. Sera never had any friends, due to having to stay hidden. Braden felt at odds with other children, and was wary of striking new friendships after what happened to his family. Two kids, not teenagers yet, still innocent in many ways—the rat-catcher girl living at night, the boy who preferred dogs and horses to other people—getting to find each other, understand each other better, appreciate each other no matter their differences. It was quite refreshing.

Too bad that I had my suspicions about who Serafina and the Black Cloak really were, and had them too early: the hints were easy enough to decipher for me (including a certain encounter in the forest). It didn’t matter that much, though; the story remained nicely enchanting and eerie. Foreshadowing can, after all, also lead to knowing yet to still eagerly awaiting the actual events and reveals themselves.

(If anything else, I also wondered about some of the adults’ reactions, especially the Vanderbilts sending their nephew away; in the light of the other children’s disappearances, it was somewhat logical, but the timing was weird. Wouldn’t that have put him in more danger, having to go through the forest at night?)

Nevertheless, this novel will likely be enjoyable for a lot of younger readers… and not so young ones as well, all things considered.

Yzabel / March 3, 2014

Review: The Deep End of the Sea

The Deep End of the Sea by Heather Lyons

My rating: [rating=5]

Summary:

What if all the legends you’ve learned were wrong?

Brutally attacked by one god and unfairly cursed by another she faithfully served, Medusa has spent the last two thousand years living out her punishment on an enchanted isle in the Aegean Sea. A far cry from the monster legends depict, she’s spent her time educating herself, gardening, and desperately trying to frighten away adventure seekers who occasionally end up, much to her dismay, as statues when they manage to catch her off guard. As time marches on without her, Medusa wishes for nothing more than to be given a second chance at a life stolen away at far too young an age.

But then comes a day when Hermes, one of the few friends she still has and the only deity she trusts, petitions the rest of the gods and goddesses to reverse the curse. Thus begins a journey toward healing and redemption, of reclaiming a life after tragedy, and of just how powerful friendship and love can be—because sometimes, you have to sink in the deep end of the sea before you can rise back up again.

Review:

I’m probably not the right public for romance, and it’s too bad: I have to admit that there were a few moments during which I wanted this story to go just a little faster (surely a reader who has more love, no pun intended, for romance in general, would have enjoyed those more). However, I still found The Deep End of the Sea a fascinating read. Because to me, its real focus is not romance: it’s abuse, and how to conquer the fears it plants into a person—told through the tale of Medusa.

Bonus points, anyway, for: no insta-love; love that develops from a long friendship; no stinkin’ triangle (Poseidon doesn’t count, he’s a creep and Medusa doesn’t consider him as an acceptable alternative even once); love is great suppot, but not the miracle solution to every problem (Medusa has to literally and figuratively stand on her own two feet through her own willpower).

The author has taken a few liberties with some of the Greek myths here, but I think they work. After all, those deities were never depicted as perfect, far from it: they had all the merits and flaws human beings could have; in many ways, they were just as humans as those who worshipped them; and as such, I wasn’t surprised to see them portrayed here in slightly different colours than the ones I was used to. I could probably choose to be a nitpicker, but… I don’t want to.

Anyway, back to what really gripped me. This story deserves to be read not to get a shot of romance, but to think about what abuse (more specifically rape) entails. It addresses a lot of the crap usually heard: that the victim “deserved it”, that she was “looking for it”. It covered the way abusers will act, and even convince themselves that they’re not at fault, that what they did was genuine, that their victim was rightfully theirs, and should be forever. Twisted, insane love to the power of ten. Hateful thoughts from the punisher towards the person who was abused twice, once by her rapist, then by the one she served and thought would help her. Guilt-tripping the victim, making her feel like the one at fault. And, last but not least, the victim herself locking her life into abuse of her own, because she hasn’t come to terms with what she went through. Even two thousand years of isolation can’t delete such a trial from one’s mind: deep inside, Medusa hadn’t faced her fears yet.

This story calls bullshit on all of this, and doesn’t use romance as an excuse to awful behaviours, the way too many books do in my opinion. No, it’s not okay to force yourself on a woman (or on anyone, as a general rule) just because she’s pretty, just because one thinks he’s in love with her. It’s never okay. Poseidon has no right to claim Medusa as his own. Nobody should make decisions for her. She didn’t deserve what happened to her, but justice being served is only the first step on a much more important road, that of finding herself again, learning to let go of the pain, to allow herself to love: a victim no more, but a strong person who refuses to be shamed any longer, especially when the ones pointing the finger are the ones who should shut up the most. (Medusa being turned into a monster, blaming herself—and being blamed by others—for the deaths she caused in that form, was quite an accurate manner, in my opinion, to reflect how way too often, victims are driven to consider themselves guilty, to see themselves as “monsters” of sorts.)

Replace Medusa’s story with that of countless people who’ve been harrassed, abused, raped, then blamed for it. And there you have it.

Also, while there were of course some really hateful figures in this story, I appreciated how support was shown, and not necessarily where it was expected. Hermes, of course, is an obvious support to Medusa; we get that from the blurb, and the narrative confirms it. But really, would you expect Hades to care? Well, yes, the Lord of the Underworld does. Not only that, but he’s seriously spot-on, and I couldn’t put it better:
“Niece,” he stresses, mimicking her formality, “this isn’t the first time you’ve overstepped your bounds by punishing innocents; this one just so happens to be the last remaining victim. If you even try to spew that victim blaming crap again, I’ll take you down to the Underworld with me for a spell. Maybe then you can understand what true justice entails.”

Support didn’t come only from other women, it also came from men. It wasn’t a one-sided, “women support women and men stand up for men” story, thus placing the real focus far abovesuch differences, at a purely human level.

Although I do have a couple of minor quibbles, they never became a problem, so I’m willing to ignore them, and keep stressing how positive and beautiful this novel was (all the more when I compare it to other stories I’ve read, full of so-called “romantic” yet actually creepy behaviours that scream impending abuse to me).

Yzabel / September 11, 2012

Review: When Love Is Not Enough

When Love Is Not Enough by Wade Kelly

My rating: [rating=4]

Summary:

A six-year downward spiral into a world of lies and deception leads to the end of one man’s life when self-discovery crosses the line between being the perfect son or following his heart.

Jimmy Miller never intended to lead a double life starting the day he fell in love with Darian, but his parents’ divorce, fighting in school, and constantly keeping secrets for his closeted best friend and protector, Matt, force his hand. Jimmy finds the demands too great to withstand and ends it all prematurely, leaving behind an angry best friend and a shattered lover.

Matt and Darian cling to one another in the aftermath of their loss, forging a new friendship immediately tested by the truths of their relationships with Jimmy that are hidden in the pages of Jimmy’s journals. Will Matt and Darian discover what truly happened to their friend? And will this tragedy birth something beautiful between them as they learn the balance between life, family, and friendship when love is simply not enough?

Review:

(Book provided by the author through ARR #455 in the Makinc Connections group, in exchange for an honest review.)

I hesitated a lot about which mark to give this book, pondering a 3 at first. I have a few gripes with it… but all things considered, it was a beautiful story that got me hooked no matter what, more complex than it seems, and so I settled on 4 stars.

Part of me perceived the characters and their reactions as often too angsty, too over-the-top, and at first sight too skewed. I thought I may not like this novel in the end. The author tackles a lot of issues in it: violence at home, broken parents-children relationships, homosexuality, rape (left unseen), lies bordering on cheating… Do so many things happen to people? Was it believable? Wasn’t it just, well, ‘too much’?

Then I thought some more, and realized that those plot points, what went in the characters’ lives, were precisely why I liked the book in the end: it made me wonder, it made me try to question people’s motives and reactions, try to understand why such event would lead to such reactions. And this was quite interesting.

There were moments I didn’t get Jamie. I didn’t get Matt. I didn’t get Darian. Why would Jamie keep everything separated, everything hidden? Why wouldn’t he just leave, give the finger, and steer his own life as soon as he was legally of age? Why would Matt be so hell-bent on one night stands? Why would Darian fall into Matt’s arms like that? I couldn’t get those. In a way, their reactions made me angry. That said, as soon as I started thinking more about them, they actually made sense, too.

– Jamie, desperate to be accepted for who he was, yet also knowing deep inside (without admitting it to himself) that it just wouldn’t happen; trying to balance out everything, to keep everything in little boxes because this may have been the only control he felt he could have on his life. I wondered why, after everything he had been through, one conversation would prompt him to commit suicide; but the very nature of that talk, as well as the people involved, had a shattering potential, and I can understand why someone like Jamie would suddenly make a terrible decision after that, after realizing openly that all his efforts were in vain.

– Matt: acting that way, I suppose, because not involving himself, not committing himself, removed the dreaded possibility of having to come out to his family. As long as he kept things like that, he wouldn’t have to make the choice, to cross the line, and could go on pretending that he was ‘just like the others’, like what other people expected him to be. In that regard, he too was caught in the same trap as Jamie, that of feeling he had to conform and hide who he truly was inside. In spite of assuming his being gay, he only assumed it far enough from home to be of no consequence to his official life.

– Darian: so desperate, alone, a young man who from the start had been robbed from half his close family, and was so frightened of losing his newfound happiness that, paradoxically, trying to escape those feelings could have destroyed him. And then Jamie was gone, making Darian’s worst fear come true, in a much cruel and ironic twist. But in spite of his frailty, of his inability to cope, he was still strong in many other ways. Strong in how he assumed who he was from the start. Strong in how he admitted he was afraid, and made the choice to not give in, even though this meant running straight into someting that a lot of people would deem as shocking. He was a beautiful soul, a person with a heart of gold, plenty of love to give freely, and the ability to commit himself fully to the one he loved, without conditions.

As I wrote above, I had some gripes with the book, and I can’t not just mention them, because even though I enjoyed the story, they may be a turn-off for a different reader:

– A couple of inserts were really, really weird. I’m thinking more specifically about that part where Darian reads from a book to Jamie, and we get the whole details about the title, author, the book being on Goodreads, an excerpt from the real text… Although I usually enjoy cameos, that one was too much like some kind of ad, that temporarily made me go “what the heck?” and broke my train of reading. I recovered quickly, but it was seriously weird.

– Matt’s speech in the end. It was spot-on, sure, yet it was also too much of a literal sermon. That too made me quirk an eyebrow and wonder if it was so necessary to present it this way.

– Not so much a gripe as a “I would have preferred if…”: Darian and Matt’s relationship. It evolved too quickly to my taste. It was beautiful, and it sort of made sense in that both of them were drawn together by the very pain that might have destroyed them had they stayed along… but I think I’d have liked it more if it had been closer to budding friendship, with love developing from there, and not the way it had started.

I suppose my review might come off as bizarre and unbalanced: a story that made me angry, confused, with characters whose reactions felt flawed at first, with an episode that destroyed my suspension of disbelief, with a sermon… and I’m still giving it such a high mark?

That’s precisely because it made me angry—and I’m not prone to a lot of feelings while reading, so any author who proves able to elicit something in me like that get to have bonus points. And in spite of the other flaws I mentioned, the way the story managed to captivate me is something I definitely can’t ignore.

(Bonus points go to Jamie’s mother, too, for being one of the craziest bitches I’ve seen in a novel so far. What’s most mind-shattering is that in the real world, there *are* people like her, who should clearly not be left running a family, yet are such skilled manipulators that nobody ever notices how screwed-up they are. I hated that woman, really.)