love Archives - The Y Logs

Yzabel / December 9, 2016

Review: Heartless

My rating: [rating=2]

Blurb:

Long before she was the terror of Wonderland, she was just a girl who wanted to fall in love. Catherine may be one of the most desired girls in Wonderland, and a favorite of the unmarried King of Hearts, but her interests lie elsewhere. A talented baker, all she wants is to open a shop with her best friend. But according to her mother, such a goal is unthinkable for the young woman who could be the next queen.

Then Cath meets Jest, the handsome and mysterious court joker. For the first time, she feels the pull of true attraction. At the risk of offending the king and infuriating her parents, she and Jest enter into an intense, secret courtship. Cath is determined to define her own destiny and fall in love on her terms. But in a land thriving with magic, madness, and monsters, fate has other plans.

Review:

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

Hm. I liked the premise (telling the story of the Queen of Hearts before Alice came to Wonderland), however there were parts when I was a little… bored?

Catherine Pinkerton, daughter of a Marchess, loves nothing more than to bake, and dreams of opening a bakery with her maid and best friend Mary Ann, rather than just marrying some rich nobility son that she won’t even love. Of course, her plans get thwarted when she catches the attention of the King… or are they? When the new Court’s joker waltzes into the play, things change again, and this time, Cath may have a chance at true love. Except… We all know how the Queen of Hearts behaves in Carroll’s story, so we also know that whatever Fate has in store for those characters, it’s not a happy ending.

It’s not so easy to write a (re)telling of something whose end is already well-known, and while it was problematic, some aspects I really liked. The beginning had a certain vibrancy, what’s with the cake/bakery imagery and Catherine’s dreams, not to mention Jest’s first appearance during the ball, and the darker parts, including the meeting with the three sisters, were creepy in their own ways.

The main problem I had with this novel were its characters, and I think that had a lot to do with how I knew (or at least suspected) it would end. This time, it’s not even a case of insta-love—Cath’s and Jest’s relationship progresses quickly, but frankly, I’ve also seen much, much worse in that regard—more a case of characters trying to let their own personality develop and shine through, only to be put back on rails in order for the story to end up where it should. I found this too bad for them, to be honest; I suspect they would’ve been more interesting had they been able to live their own tale fully. As a result, Catherine especially ended up rather passive and unappealing, stuck between a sort of Regency-like society where noble girls marry noble men and must remain silent and pretty in their corsets, a holier-than-thou attitude (ironically mirroring Margaret’s without never realising it), and twists meant to turn her into the Queen of Hearts, yet too predictable to really hit home. The courtship period was infuriating, what’s with all her refusing the King but never telling it to his face, letting things happen, then worrying that she’ll have to marry him and not be with the man she actually loves, but still not doing anything, until it was too late and whatever she’d do would just end up badly (also it’s the others’ fault, never hers… great).

Other problems were the writing (not bad, but nothing exceptional either), and the pacing: especially in the second third, the story dragged and felt padded out—that was when I started struggling to keep on reading, before getting to the last/darker part. While the kingdom of Hearts had a ‘cutesy’ and colourful side that I quite liked, it didn’t enthrall me (Chess with its warring Queens seemed more exciting?), perhaps because half the book at least was devoted to parties and balls and a more traditional “arranged marriage” plot, instead of playing on a more Wonderland-like atmosphere.

Conclusion: Well, I expected more, and this is clearly a case of a story whose characters would have been better left to their own devices.

Yzabel / November 11, 2016

Review: Dark Matter

Dark Matter by Blake Crouch

My rating: [rating=4]

Blurb:

“Are you happy with your life?”

Those are the last words Jason Dessen hears before the masked abductor knocks him unconscious.

Before he awakens to find himself strapped to a gurney, surrounded by strangers in hazmat suits.

Before a man Jason’s never met smiles down at him and says, “Welcome back, my friend.”

In this world he’s woken up to, Jason’s life is not the one he knows. His wife is not his wife. His son was never born. And Jason is not an ordinary college physics professor, but a celebrated genius who has achieved something remarkable. Something impossible.

Is it this world or the other that’s the dream? And even if the home he remembers is real, how can Jason possibly make it back to the family he loves? The answers lie in a journey more wondrous and horrifying than anything he could’ve imagined—one that will force him to confront the darkest parts of himself even as he battles a terrifying, seemingly unbeatable foe.

Review:

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

Reviewing this book without spoilers is hard, especially since some of those spoilers would illustrate my “buts…”. I’ll try.

In general, I did enjoy this story. It plays on the endless possibilities offered by other universes, and on the conundrums they entail—i.e. that our lives rest on the many choices we make, and that one tiny choice can be the trigger to a huge event. Jason’s trials in that regard constantly force him to consider this aspect, this grand scheme of things, because in that, too, the tiniest mistake can have terrible consequences.

Jason as a character had his highs and lows. There were moments when he made some pretty bad/dangerous choices, making me wonder if he had turned too-stupid-to-live (I’ll just mention the red and black squares here—emotional and very humane moment, but I seriously expected Jason and his companion to drag that baggage further into the story, and they were just uber lucky, I guess?). At other moments, he proved himself to be a kind and decent person, who made choices not based on what he would like, but on what the people he loved would prefer. And yet nothing is all black and white here, because the way the last quarter of the story turns out, it makes you wonder: could he have changed, become different, if life had treated him differently?

A lot of emotions in there, for sure. Some very poignant scenes. Others that were both frightening and somewhat funny at the same time, towards the end, considering the people Jason has to face. The explanation as to what triggered what was behind the “doors”, well, that was interesting, and in fact logical, considering the explanation given about those.

I liked Amanda as well, and to be honest, I would’ve loved to see more of her. (I kept wondering if something would happen; part of me is glad of how it turned out, and another part keeps wondering “what if”. What’s her story exactly? What will it be? In a world with endless possibilities, not knowing at least one is… troubling.

I guess this is one of what I’d call weak points here, in that the narrative being Jason’s, we only get to see a very subjective view of it all, and characters who deserved to be fleshed out more, whom I sensed could be and do more, were thus sidelined because those other aspects of their personalities and lives weren’t what Jason considered. (Also, the use of a couple of tropes in order to get rid of some characters; it’s like they weren’t so important in the end to the author, but to me, they were, and would’ve deserved more screen time, even though I totally get why these tropes were used, and to what effect.)

The narrative style as well felt problematic—as usual with first person present tense, as far as I’m concerned. While it does lend a sense of immediacy and urgency to the novel (especially with the short sentences or even one-worders interspersed throughout), it also felt too abrupt, and conflicting with the more introspective pages. But then, as I mentioned in other reviews, this specific tense choice is a pet peeve of mine.

Finally, I’m not too sure about the scientific theories underlining the story. I’m not too knowledgeable about that, so I can’t really tell if they were definitely interesting and believable in terms of quantum mechanics, or if they’re just grazing the surface. I suspect the latter (I did have that feeling I wanted to know more, see those theories described in more details), yet in terms of plot device, well, it worked well enough for me to go along with the ride and enjoy it.

Conclusion: 3.5/4 stars.

Yzabel / November 7, 2016

Review: The Easy Way Out

The Easy Way Out by Steven Amsterdam

My rating: [rating=2]

Blurb:

Evan’s job is to help people die.

Evan is a nurse – a suicide assistant. His job is legal – just. He’s the one at the hospital who hands out the last drink to those who ask for it.

Evan’s friends don’t know what he does during the day. His mother, Viv, doesn’t know what he’s up to at night. And his supervisor suspects there may be trouble ahead.

As he helps one patient after another die, Evan pushes against the limits of the law – and his own morality. And with Viv increasingly unwell, his love life complicated, to say the least, Evan begins to wonder who might be there for him, when the time comes.

Review:

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

OK, I admit I don’t really know what to write in this review, which seldom happens. It wasn’t a bad story—and its theme is fairly interesting (legalised euthanasia, and potential risks and abuse that may be related to it vs. what it accomplishes for people who suffer). But I never really feel connected to the characters, and thus never really cared about them.

I can feel somewhat close to the debate about euthanasia. I’m not sure if it’s something I’d choose for myself, however with my phobia of cancer, I really “get” the wish to go while you can still decide for yourself, because I see absolutely no point in “living longer” if this “life” is spent pissing myself in a hospital bed and begging for morphine or not being aware anymore of what’s around me. At this point, that’s not even surviving anymore, so… I don’t know. Somehow I really hope I’ll never have to find out for myself. That’s the kind of knowledge I can blissfully remain ignorant of.

Evan’s dilemmas, his trouble adjusting to what his job demanded of him and what, deep inside, he wanted/needed to give, were interesting as well. There are a lot of grey areas here, and I’d often wonder at all the legal parts in this legalised assisted death in the novel: on the one hand, the law has to prevent abuse, otherwise it’s easy to veer into murder; on the other, what do you do when a patient with degenerative disease has expressed until the end their wish to die, but their disease prevent them from drinking their glass of Nembutal? Not helping means denying their wishes; but actually helping them drink may be construed as “pushy” and “choosing for them”. So, so very grey.

Also, props for including a relationship that is not the cookie-cutter traditional heterosexual one, AND including it in a natural way, as something that simply “is”, and not some matter for moral discussion or judgment or whatever. You don’t see that too often to my liking in books and movies. Granted, I wished Evan had been more involved in it, because Lon and Simon were lovely and supportive people, and I felt they were always left on the sideline; but that has nothing to do with gender.

On the other hand, some things were not fleshed out enough. Evan’s relationship with his boss Nettie, for starters—I was sure there was matter for discussion here, a basis for more conflict and/or, on the contrary, more relating, yet it was never really accomplished. Same with Evan’s decision to keep mum about his job when it came to some of (close) characters, or Jasper’s Path, which came a bit out of nowhere?

I didn’t really get either the very, very quick decline in Viv. Sure, it was dramatic, however the scientist in me would’ve liked to see more explanations about her going from Parkinson’s to almost-miraculous recovery to going downhill in a matter of 4-5 days. I totally get the whole tragedy in her condition—a fiercely independent woman who finds herself becoming dependent and is inwardly scared of it—but this decline felt like a plot device and not like an exactly natural evolution of said plot, if that makes sense.

Conclusion: interesting, but I never felt involved.

Yzabel / October 13, 2015

Review: Ashstorm

Ashstorm by A.D. Starrling

My rating: [rating=3]

Blurb:

The Hunter who should have been king.

The Elemental who fears love.

The Seer who is yet to embrace her powers.

Three immortals whose fates are intertwined with that of the oldest and most formidable enemy the immortal and human societies have ever faced.

1599. While hunting a deadly adversary who has eluded him for two hundred years, Asgard Godard falls into an icy tomb that leaves him frozen in time.

1969. After more than a century on the run, Ethan Storm finds himself at the mercy of the man who ripped his family apart and sent him into exile.

2013. Following a hundred years of solitary existence, Olivia Ash wakes from a nightmare to find the home where she has lived her entire life under attack by a deadly foe.

Linked by an incredible destiny and with time very much against them, Asgard, Ethan, and Olivia must keep ahead of their common enemy and the rogue branch of the US army at his command. When an unlikely ally crosses their path, they come into possession of a set of clues that help them unearth their opponents’ devastating plans.

With the future of the whole world at risk, the three immortals and their allies must draw on all their skills and unique abilities to defeat the man who has inflicted so much loss and misery upon their lives.

Review:

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

I read the first three books in this series last year, and found them enjoyable—not the best, but definitely enjoyable, and making me feel like checking if book 4 was out. Which it was.

New characters are introduced here, some of them bearing birth marks (and displaying powers) like the main characters in the previous installments, leading more and more to the gathering of a kind of “league” who, no doubt, will have to fight more and more dangerous odds. Olivia and Ethan complement and enhance each other’s powers nicely, while Asgard is tied to quite a few people among the most important ones, owing to his own birth. If there’s one thing, it’s how little we see of the others as the cast keeps on growing. I can’t help but feel impatient regarding the moment when they’re finally all together (is this book it, or will others appear in the next one?). Such a group is bound to have an impressive dynamics.

The focus was less on Kronos in general, and more on one specific antagonist pursuing goals tied partly to it and partly to his own ambitions. The idea of a secret base and secret experiments was a bit basic, though, so I hope later developments—the kind hinted at by the end of the novel—will go deeper. That Kronos isn’t “only that”. I’m sure it’s not.

I’m a bit torn, too, regarding relationships between the characters. Although the idea of soulmates finding each other is nice, it’s starting to feel like every set of people is meant to find their own love interest in each story. Maybe it’s just me, but at some point I’d like to see something different, bonds that would run very deep without necessary being “couple-love”. We have some of this here with Ethan and Asgard, and I wish we could see more: after all, they fought Jonah for decades, and their loyalty to each other is unswerving. Comrades to death, and all that.

I still enjoyed the blend of action and quieter moments nonetheless, all the more because the characters didn’t completely forget about their predicament (something that tends to happen too often in many books: as soon as the love interest appears, the impending end of the world doesn’t seem so important anymore, and too much time is spent on trifles).

Once again, I’m not rating this novel higher… yet I’ll still seek out volume 5.

Yzabel / September 25, 2015

Review: The Gap of Time

The Gap of Time: A Novel by Jeanette Winterson

My rating: [rating=4]

Blurb:

The Winter’s Tale is one of Shakespeare’s “late plays.” It tells the story of a king whose jealousy results in the banishment of his baby daughter and the death of his beautiful wife. His daughter is found and brought up by a shepherd on the Bohemian coast, but through a series of extraordinary events, father and daughter, and eventually mother too, are reunited.

In Jeanette Winterson’s retelling of The Winter’s Tale we move from London, a city reeling after the 2008 financial crisis, to a storm-ravaged American city called New Bohemia. Her story is one of childhood friendship, money, status, technology and the elliptical nature of time. Written with energy and wit, this is a story of the consuming power of jealousy on one hand, and redemption and the enduring love of a lost child on the other.

Review:

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

I’m not too familiar with Winterson’s writing—except for a puny page from Sexing the Cherry that I had to translate at uni a some 10 years ago—so I can’t comment on how this adaptation exercise affected her usual writing, or if there’s anything really noteworthy here, in one way or another.

As a retelling of a play I incidentally also had to study, and quite enjoyed, I found it interesting: close enough to Shakespeare’s work in its themes (and names), but different enough as well, in that the modern setting allowed for other ways of dealing with those themes.

I liked this new interpretation of the characters. Hermione’s death, for instance, carried through isolation from the media as well as from her family. What happened to Milo/Mamilius. How exactly Perdita was “lost”. The absent Oracle, replaced by a DNA test. The kingdoms being a corporation and a colony. The Sheperd as a poor musician, Autolycus as a wily car dealer. And, last but not least, the twist on Antigonus’s fate, in a surprising interpretation of the famous “exit, pursued by a bear” stage direction. The Winter’s Tale is not an easy play; retelling it is certainly not easy either; in any case, for me, it worked.

As with the play, I preferred the first part to the second—darker, edgier, also with a more hateful Leo/Leontes, through his vulgarity and the way he treated MiMi/Hermione, so blinded by his jealousy that he kept refusing the means to actually prove whether he was right or wrong. Mostly the characters evolved in a bleak setting of money and fake smiles, in lieu of a Court, where finding happiness was just impossible as long as Perdita wasn’t fully accepted among them. I can’t exactly explain why such a setting was more interesting to me than the “happy” one of Shep’s and Clo’s life, raising Perdita on the other side of the ocean… it just was. This doesn’t make the novel less good, though—it’s probably more a matter of personal preference.

I liked what became of Leo in the third part, too: repentant yet still himself, amending his ways yet not all of them, which made him… believable? As for the video game… not sure what to make of it, however I found it lending a strange, eerie, haunted quality to the story, a sort of gloomy backdrop to Leo’s and Xeno’s broken relationship, with MiMi as the single unattainable beacon of light in the darkness. Quite powerful imagery.

Although it’s not absolutely necessary to have read the original play, since a summary is provided, I would recommend doing so, if only to be able to properly draw the parallels between both.

Conclusion: with other authors such as Margaret Atwood and Gillian Flynn being involved in this project, on top of that, I think it is definitely worth another check later. Here’s to hope I’ll be able to get copies of these books as well!

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 / August 22, 2014

Review: The Wonder of All Things

The Wonder of All Things by Jason Mott

My rating: [rating=3]

Summary:

On an ordinary day, at an air show like that in any small town across the country, a plane crashes into a crowd of spectators, killing and injuring dozens. But when the dust clears, a thirteen-year-old girl named Ava is found huddled beneath a pocket of rubble with her best friend, Wash. He is injured and bleeding, and when Ava places her hands over him, his wounds miraculously disappear. 

Ava has a unique gift: she can heal others of their physical ailments. Until the air show tragedy, her gift was a secret. But now the whole world knows, and suddenly Ava is thrust into the spotlight. People from all over the globe begin flocking to her small town, looking for healing and eager to glimpse the wonder of a miracle. But Ava’s unusual ability comes at a great costher own healthand as she grows weaker with each healing, Ava begins searching for an escape. Wash agrees to help Ava, but little does she know he has his own secret he’s been harboring, and soon Ava finds herself having to decide just how much she’s willing to sacrifice in order to save the one she loves most.

Review:

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

A novel that raised interesting questions, but that in the end failed to deliver some answers. I don’t mean THE answers, because I don’t think there’s any definite one. It’s more a feeling on my part that it didn’t go as far as its premise could (and should) have taken it.

The story deals with Ava, a thireteen-year-old girl who suddenly reveals a healing power. Unfortunately, this power comes with a price, and the more she uses it, the more her own health suffers. However, as news the event that revealed her existence spreads throughout the country, she and her family are confronted with the many opinions of many people about what she should do with her newfound ability… and those opinions are quite revealing of what drives human beings.

Ava’s father, her stepmother, other people around her, are all tempted, at some point, to ask her to perform some healing, each for their own motives. Macon (her father) because he’s at a loss, seeing his only daughter wither, and trying to find a way to put an end to it, even though this might mean pushing her through more healing at first. Carmen (her stepmother) because there’s a baby on the way, and who knows what might go wrong? In a way, they’re somewhat justified in their “demands”, and one may wonder: are they selfish? Or are they only being people, with their own temporary weakness when confronted to something so awe-inspiring? At the same time, other people, such as Wash’s grandmother, don’t demand anything at all—and those who don’t demand anything aren’t always those who’re the less in need.

I think The Wonder of All Things makes us question those hypothetical motives in ourselves as well. If someone with such a healing power was to appear, would we be entitled to demand they heal just about anyone, regardless of the cost to their own health? Would we deem them “selfish” if they were to keep their ability for their loved ones only, knowing that doing more would kill them? Would such a person have a “responsibility” to everyone, should s/he be expected to sacrifice his/her own future? Some may say yes, some may say no, some may not know. I don’t know. Part of me would likely want such a power to be used; yet another part kept revolting, thinking, “Guys, this is Ava’s life. You have no right to tell her what to do with it.”

This is where, in my opinion, the novel could have gone further, and didn’t. For instance, we know early on that news about Ava spread through the internet, but not once do the main characters try to use the same media to tell the world the truth about her ability: that it’s hurting her. Not once do they force other people to face their own demands, if only by simply asking: “You want me to heal your child/father/spouse, but considering I can’t heal a lot of people, tell me, why should I choose him/her over someone else? Tell me. Give me a reason that isn’t a selfish one, you who’re calling me ‘selfish’.” (This is definitely something I was expecting some character, any character, to do at some point.) In a way, they may have been too passive about this, maybe expecting things to calm down on their own—wishful thinking, that.

On the other hand, there was also a lot of beauty in this story, in how Ava and Carmen had the opportunity to find an unexpected common ground in a situation that could just have well have divided them even more. And the parts where Ava remembered her own mother were touching.

I liked this story, I did. I just wanted the characters to be more on the confrontational side, regarding other people around them.

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 / 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.)