NetGalley Archives - Page 19 of 47

Yzabel / November 23, 2016

Review: Haters: Harassment, Abuse, and Violence Online

Haters: Harassment, Abuse, and Violence Online by Bailey Poland

My rating: [rating=4]

Blurb:

Cybersexism is rampant and can exact an astonishingly high cost. In some cases, the final result is suicide.

Bullying, stalking, and trolling are just the beginning. Extreme examples such as GamerGate get publicized, but otherwise the online abuse of women is largely underreported. Haters combines a history of online sexism with suggestions for solutions.

Using current events and the latest available research into cybersexism, Bailey Poland questions the motivations behind cybersexist activities and explores methods to reduce footprints of Internet misogyny, drawing parallels between online and offline abuse. By exploring the cases of Alyssa Funke, Rehtaeh Parsons, Audrie Pott, Zoe Quinn, Anita Sarkeesian, Brianna Wu, and others, and her personal experiences with sexism, Poland develops a compelling method of combating sexism online.

Review:

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

I don’t read non-fiction that often, so when I do, I always want those books to be good, to teach me something, and/or to make me think. I guess this one was all three? I pretty much “enjoyed” reading it—from an academic point of view, because let’s be honest, the problems it describes aren’t so savoury, and it’s such a shame they’re still here in 2016. Interesting, too, was how I could discuss it with a couple of friends, and they hadn’t necessarily realised either all that online harrassment involves: not just the insulting posts/tweets/interactions, but how all those get dismissed so easily, and by basically everybody and their dog, under the umbrella of “don’t feed the trolls” and “if you don’t like it, just turn off your computer”.

Because not feeding offenders doesn’t mean they’ll stop: what they want is not always attention, but the feeling that they’ve “won” by driving you away.

Because “just turn the computer off” is not a solution, especially not in our age where every potential recruiter and employer looks you up on the web, and if you don’t maintain some kind of online presence, you’re not good enough, but if what they find are blogs and profiles defaced by abusers, it’s even worse.

Because, sadly but unsurprisingly, it still all ties into the “blame the victim” culture; into victims being the ones who must waste time and make efforts to get rid of the abuse; into (yes, once again) the fact that women and minorities get a lot more abuse than ye olde middle-class white guy—and that it’s about abusers demanding that their victims waste their time on them, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

I’ve been lucky so far in terms of abuse, but I’ve lived in bad places offline and I know what it is to get cat-called by shady guys in the street, who then proceed to insult you when you don’t drop everything you’re doing to turn all your attention to them. So, yeah, when we have to contend with that shite online as well? Not good.

Sadly here as well, people who’d benefit most from reading such a book (in order to realise why it’s not okay—or that we’ve called their BS long ago and the only ones they’re fooling is themselves) won’t read it, won’t care, will probably abuse the author, whatever. Nevertheless, I think this would be food for thought for many, many other people: it’s amazing (and worrying) how easy it is to internalise that culture of abuse, to react ourselves with mild aphorisms like “just block them”, as if ignoring what’s happening will make it vanish by magic. Tiny little details that we continuously feed into our own daily narratives, poisoning ourselves, even when we’re obviously against abuse and behave in civil ways otherwise.

The author provides quite a few examples of abuse situations or larger events like the Gamergate, showing how abusers behave, and what kind of dangers this can all lead to, ranging from personal and professional issues to physical wounds and worse (revealing information like Social Security numbers and addresses, for the targets to be abused offline as well).

The one thing I found a little difficult at times was the academic style, which was dry in places, and sometimes seemed to repeat itself (possibly in attempts to keep it to a more generic kind of language, I’d say, and prevent it from immediately being labelled as “see you’re writing about abusers but you do that in an offending way”—also note the irony of, once again, having to keep ourselves in check so that the real abusers won’t be able to bounce on it). On the other hand, the book as a whole is accessible and not “hard” to read and understand.

Conclusion: Important matter, dealt with in understandable ways, and deserving of being read by a wide range of people.

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

Because not feeding offenders doesn’t mean they’ll stop: what they want is not always attention, but the feeling that they’ve “won” by driving you away.

Conclusion: Important matter, dealt with in understandable ways, and deserving of being read by a wide range of people.

Yzabel / November 19, 2016

Review: Pirate Utopia

Pirate Utopia by Bruce Sterling

My rating: [rating=4]

Blurb:

Who are these bold rebels pillaging their European neighbors in the name of revolution? The Futurists! Utopian pirate warriors of the diminutive Regency of Carnaro, scourge of the Adriatic Sea. Mortal enemies of communists, capitalists, and even fascists (to whom they are not entirely unsympathetic).

The ambitious Soldier-Citizens of Carnaro are led by a brilliant and passionate coterie of the perhaps insane. Lorenzo Secondari, World War I veteran, engineering genius, and leader of Croatian raiders. Frau Piffer, Syndicalist manufacturer of torpedos at a factory run by and for women. The Ace of Hearts, a dashing Milanese aristocrat, spymaster, and tactical savant. And the Prophet, a seductive warrior-poet who leads via free love and military ruthlessness.

Fresh off of a worldwide demonstration of their might, can the Futurists engage the aid of sinister American traitors and establish world domination?

Review:

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

A book that, to me, was more interesting for the world it developed than for its actual plot—I’d definitely like to see this “Futurist 1920s Italia/Europe/USA” revisited and developed more, especially for what the author does with famous figures and events of that time period.

So. It is 1920 in Fiume, and this town poised between Italia and Croatia is run by pirates: anarchists and artists, writers and syndicalists, all at once, boasting ideals and beliefs in the Future, taking over factories and throwing away rich capitalists. It is 1920, and Communism has been alive and kicking for quite a while. Gabriele d’Annunzio is the Prophet (and the man who really established the Republic of Carnaro in our world, too); Harry Houdini, H. P. Lovecraft and Robert E. Howard are working as flamboyant spies for the US government; and in Berlin, a young man by the name of Adolf dies to protect another man in a bar brawl, thus never starting on the path he will be known for in our History. And he’s not the one, far from it.

I loved what Bruce Sterling did with this alternate history, dieselpunk Europe, full of contradictions: praise for the Future and strong beliefs and angular colourful clothes; rambunctious pirates proud of their ways, fascists with minds turned towards a different ideology, and engineers stealing armoured cars from the rioters who stole them first; beautiful and mysterious artist women, and a magician without fear who may or may not be human; but also factories churning torpedoes, small guns produced by the hundreds and used as currency, manifestos and propaganda, and a mounting tendency towards a new war.

A constant energy permeated the narrative, nervous and stressful in parts, ecstatic in others, and it provided for a fascinating read. There’s humour and pulp and inventions and scary ideas as well in there. There’s speed and technology and violence, carried by a youthful spirit—in one word, Futurismo—reflected in the illustrations at the beginning of each chapter. Delightful.

What I regret is that it didn’t go further. This is more a novella, and one that stops at a turning point that I would so much have wanted to see developed and explored. (In an interview, the author explains his choice, and the writer in me can totally understand it; still, the reader in me felt sad at leaving that alternate world so soon.)

Conclusion: 3.5 stars. Mr Sterling, are you going to revisit this world soon? Please.

Yzabel / November 17, 2016

Review: Homo Deus

Homo Deus: A Brief History of Tomorrow by Yuval Noah Harari

My rating: [rating=3]

Blurb:

Yuval Noah Harari, author of the critically-acclaimed New York Times bestseller and international phenomenon Sapiens, returns with an equally original, compelling, and provocative book, turning his focus toward humanity’s future, and our quest to upgrade humans into gods.

Over the past century humankind has managed to do the impossible and rein in famine, plague, and war. This may seem hard to accept, but, as Harari explains in his trademark style—thorough, yet riveting—famine, plague and war have been transformed from incomprehensible and uncontrollable forces of nature into manageable challenges. For the first time ever, more people die from eating too much than from eating too little; more people die from old age than from infectious diseases; and more people commit suicide than are killed by soldiers, terrorists and criminals put together. The average American is a thousand times more likely to die from binging at McDonalds than from being blown up by Al Qaeda.

What then will replace famine, plague, and war at the top of the human agenda? As the self-made gods of planet earth, what destinies will we set ourselves, and which quests will we undertake? Homo Deus explores the projects, dreams and nightmares that will shape the twenty-first century—from overcoming death to creating artificial life. It asks the fundamental questions: Where do we go from here? And how will we protect this fragile world from our own destructive powers? This is the next stage of evolution. This is Homo Deus.

Review:

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

Interesting for the possibilities it presents, even if I’m not 100% convinced about some of the scientific explanations. On the other end, not being a specialist, I’m not discarding them either.

The writing style was very easy to follow and engaging, making it a pleasant read that I kept going back to. Some themes that could’ve been fairly dry, like recapping humanity’s history and evolution, were done so in a way that explained the essential parts without making them unpalatable.

A lot of theories in this book hinge on organisms being driven by algorithms, like machines are. Biological algorithms, that is: stimuli triggering responses that follow a set of instructions (see threat – produce adrenaline – react, that kind of instructions). Well, why not! I do enjoy my little world of believing that, because I’m a human being, I am exceptional, but if I think about it, I’m still an organic machine, with needs for fuel, and a limited self-repair ability. And so, as algorithms-based beings, there’s a fine line to thread between creating always more powerful computers, and maybe one day being driven by them, with their ability to process so much more data, and so much faster. AIs composing music or haiku, after being programmed with complex sets of algorithms to reproduce what would touch human ears and trigger emotions: something that is both fascinating (how far we’ve gone) and frightening (we’re not so unique anymore).

Following this, the book explores potential outcomes: if we end up building machines that can perform better and faster (like the Google automated car that will apply the brakes in time vs. a tired human who won’t react fast enough) , won’t we become obsolete? What can we do then, what kinds of occupations for us, and if none—can a sustainable economy grow out of this, making it sustainable for everybody, or will humans just have to go down the road of extinction?

In general, though I felt this book wasn’t going far enough in presenting those possibilities both exciting and scary (improved humans vs. free will as being only the product of our desires/algorithms). Sometimes I had the feeling I had already read something similar in a previous chapter. Somehow it seems to be better inspiration for a sci-fi novel than for actual theories about what may happen in the future?

Still, it’s food for thought. Also, from other reviews, it may be that a previous book (“Sapiens”) by this author would be more interesting, so I may be tempted to read it later.

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 / November 4, 2016

Review: Cybercrime and the Dark Net

Cybercrime and the Dark Net: Revealing the hidden underworld of the internet by Cath Senker

My rating: [rating=3]

Blurb:

With the emergence of the internet new forms of crime became possible. From harassment and grooming to fraud and identity theft the anonymity provided by the internet has created a new world of crime of which we all must be aware. The threat of hackers reaches beyond the individual, threatening businesses and even states, and holds worrying implications for the world we live in.

In this enlightening account, Cath Senker unmasks the many guises that cybercrime takes and the efforts of law enforcement to keep pace with the hackers. She reveals the mysterious world of hackers and cybersecurity professionals and reveals a story that is both shocking and surprising. With chapters on political activism and human rights, Senker shows a brighter side of the darknet. For anyone interested in learning more of the world of cyber-criminals and their opponents, this is the perfect starting point.

Review:

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

This book provided an introduction to part of what you can find on the “Deep Web”. If you don’t know anything about it, or just a few things, it will give you some starting points which you can use to then find out more. If you already know what there is to know, probably the book won’t be useful, though.

Divided in two parts, “Cybercrime” and “The Dark Net”, it introduces some of the basic ideas and concepts. What’s the Deep Web and what can you find it it. Who’s more likely to use the Tor browser and other tools to remain anonymous (not only criminals and terrorists: activist and people who fight for their rights do need a place where they can share information without being silenced by their governments). Examples of cybercrime: drug-selling websites, child sexual abuse, or simply places where you can buy regular items with Bitcoin. Interestingly, crime appears to be the least spread activity, and a lot of people who use the ‘Dark Web’ do so for reasons that do not go against the law. All in all, it’s a good reminder that a tool is never as good or as evil as the hand who wields it.

The book also provides examples of some of the most well-known leaks, uses of virus or worms, and DDoS attacks. Nothing new to me, but something that will be useful to neophytes, without drowning them under a deluge of information—and not as biased as one may have expected: all in all, the author tried to present various sides of the story, so to speak. (Of course, keep in mind that what’s in the book is only the tip of the iceberg: the most juicy bits are the ones you will -not- find in a book.)

I’m not rating it higher because in the end, it didn’t bring me a lot of information I didn’t already know. But I don’t doubt it will be more interesting for other readers.

Yzabel / November 4, 2016

Review: Revenger

Revenger by Alastair Reynolds

My rating: [rating=3]

Blurb:

The galaxy has seen great empires rise and fall. Planets have shattered and been remade. Amongst the ruins of alien civilizations, building our own from the rubble, humanity still thrives.
And there are vast fortunes to be mad, if you know where to find them…
Captain Rackamore and his crew do. It’s their business to find the tiny, enigmatic worlds which have been hidden away, booby-trapped, surrounded by layers of protection – and to crack them open for the ancient relics and barely-remembered technologies inside. But while they ply their risky trade with integrity, not everyone is so scrupulous.
Adrana and Fura Ness are the newest members of Rackamore’s crew, signed on to save their family from bankruptcy. Only Rackamore has enemies, and there might be more waiting for them in space than adventure and fortune: the fabled and feared Bosa Sennen in particular.
Revenger is a science fiction adventure story set in the rubble of our solar system in the dark, distant future – a tale of space pirates, buried treasure, and phantom weapons, of unspeakable hazards and single-minded heroism… and of vengeance…

Review:

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

I’ve never read anything by this author before, so I can’t compare with his other works. In general, although “Revenger” is not without faults, it was an entertaining novel.

“Revenger” takes place in a decrepit, dark solar system. In this world where spaceships run both on ion engines and thanks to sails gathering solar radiation from the “Old Sun”, crews live and die for their constant scavenging of “baubles”, closed gems inherited from various alien occupations, that only open from time to time… and are rumoured to contain all kinds of treasures. There’s no massive colonisation of other planets here, only little artificial worlds, scattered here and there, some in the shape of tubes, others using rotation to generate their gravity. This is a world of smuggling and piracy, of young women signing up with crews to leave their smothering father, and of rakish captains and resourceful sailors—all united by their love of money (qoins) and their fear of the legendary Bosa Sennen.

There were great moments in this story—from gritty and gorey close-combat scenes to tense moments between characters, from the cold, constricted yet fascinating baubles to the ominous presence of the Nightjammer when it was looming close—and hints of a world building that goes much deeper, thanks to the various bits the author gives here and there about the various Occupations. I wish the author had had room to develop this some more, especially when it came to the baubles and why they were left here: weaponry warehouses? Traps? Something else? Part of a much more complicated system?

A lot of the characters in this novel are not particularly nice at first sight. Adrana and Fura dream of adventure, and enlist on a ship to earn money for their father who lost a lot in bad investments (on top of having heart problems), but most of their drive still comes from a selfish desire (selfish because they don’t think of all the hurt they’ll cause) to escape a pampered rich girl’s fate. Probably they’re meant to marry to bring money in, though, and, in Fura’s case, there’s the matter of her father, as doting as he is, considering having a creepy doctor inject her with drugs so that her body will remain that of a child for more years to come. While the crew of the Monetta seems to be decent people, other are clearly cowardish, like captains trailing other ships to let them do most of the work in a bauble before entering it themselves, or, worse, jump them to steal their loot and kill them (Bosa is in the latter category). Vidin, from the beginning, was a thug who demolished a robot instead of just “preventing it from entering the shop”. And Fura herself isn’t blameless, becoming harder (understandable considering the hardships she’s been through) in a way that also makes her really callous at times (I’m thinking of the morning of her escape, more specifically).

However, even though this doesn’t make them too likeable, it also definitely fits the mood. There’s something dark and rotten in this world, highlighted by some of the loot found in baubles: cloth as black as the night, ghostly weapons and armor that seem to defy the laws of space itself, claustrophobic baubles where you can end up trap if you’ve got your auguries wrong (they open and close at set times, and if you’re trapped, nobody can get you out). Ships communicate and spy through the use of bones, ancient remnants of aliens long gone, which nobody truly understand; only teenagers can read them, before adulthood freezes their neural elasticity and makes them unable to process the kind of data travelling on the bones. And, in general, no mercy here: a tiny mistake will kill you, and some, like Bosa, have mastered and elevated cruelty to the rank of art.

Oddly enough, I quite liked Bosa. Maybe because of her way of talking, her strange suit, the legend she posed as… I admit I was a little disappointed when her goals were revealed, not because of what they were, but because of the way they were introduced—these would have deserved, I think, more details, and a different kind of exposition. This echoed the disjointedness I could feel at times, when the rhythm of the narrative became uneven; the beginning would be a good example of this, with the girls’ decision coming a little too fast to be believable (especially Fura’s—Adrana was introduced as wilder, but Fura seemed to be too mild and obedient to suddenly do such a 180). Things became more interesting once the girls were onboard the ship.

There’s a slight shift in the narrative style as well: the harder Fura becomes, the more her style veers from her more prim, ‘ladylike’ speech (even though she always keeps traces of it—as several characters are apt to point out). Although to be honest, I’m still on the fence when it comes to Fura’s growth: in spite of the hardships she encountered, I found it too quick, and not entirely justified by the a certain plot element supposed to make her more paranoid/prone to anger. I don’t know. It just seemed to extreme.

Still, I enjoyed the book, and am hoping there’ll be a sequel, so 3.5 stars it is.

Yzabel / October 31, 2016

Review: The Bear and the Nightingale

The Bear and The Nightingale by Katherine Arden

My rating: [rating=4]

Blurb:

In a village at the edge of the wilderness of northern Russia, where the winds blow cold and the snow falls many months of the year, a stranger with piercing blue eyes presents a new father with a gift – a precious jewel on a delicate chain,intended for his young daughter. Uncertain of its meaning, the father hides the gift away and his daughter, Vasya, grows up a wild, willfull girl, to the chagrin of her family. But when mysterious forces threaten the happiness of their village, Vasya discovers that, armed only with the necklace, she may be the only one who can keep the darkness at bay.

Review:

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

I was invited to read this book by the publisher, and gladly accepted, since it looked like something I would like.

And liked it I did, at least for most of its parts. It took me a little while to get used to the writing style, however once I did I found it worked fairly well, telling the story in the manner of a fairy tale. The descriptions made it easy to picture the house Vasya lives in, the horses, the nearby forest, and the deep cold in winter.

I liked Vasya in general, and how her “opponents” were not only out of tales and folklore, but also what society expects of her (either marrying or going to a convent). This was easy to see with the way she was described, often likened to a “filly” when the point of view was a man’s, like an animal just waiting to be tamed. I felt that at times, this description extended to other POVs, which weakened it, but in general, it worked (yes, it created a feeling of unease and frustration… which was exactly the point, I suppose!). Fortunately, Vasya had no intention of being “tamed”, and revealed herself as a brave soul who wanted nothing more than to protect her family, even knowing that people would call her a witch. And it didn’t matter to her: she still wanted to do the right thing, without wasting time on justifying her actions.

The magic here is more on the subtle side: no spells, but folklore, people leaving food for the spirits of their home, Vasya being able to talk with horses, horses teaching her how to ride them, and “witches” being generally characterised by their ability to see the spirits. The latter were on the side of nature rather than morality’s, which was a pleasant thing: contrary to the priest’s and Anna’s beliefs, this was never about “demons”, about Good vs. Bad, but about two different sides of nature, the cold/death/order pitched against the scorching heat and violence of an unbound summer. Even if the Bear was touted as the enemy, he was nevertheless part of the cycle: not to be destroyed, simply to be forced to rest in order not to burn too bright and destroy what he touched instead of warming it.

To be honest, I regret a little that the story didn’t truly turn to magic/tale before later. There was much of “Vasya growing up, politics in Moscow”, etc., which in a bona fide fairy tale would’ve been an introduction, soon to leave room to the actual tale. Granted, it did help in setting the mood and the family relationships, but I suppose I was expecting more of the magical/enchanted side, in larger doses? In spite of the presence of chyerty, some chapters felt a tad bit too down to earth, in a way. I think this also contributes to making it a slow story: I admit I wondered, towards the end, if there’d be room for the announced battle against the Bear, because I was reaching the 85% mark and I still wasn’t seeing it.

Conclusion: 3.5 stars.

Yzabel / October 30, 2016

Review: Doctor Who: The American Adventures

Doctor Who: The American Adventures by Justin Richards

My rating: [rating=1]

Blurb::

Travel through time and space with the Twelfth Doctor in these six brand new adventures, set in a host of locations across the US and eras from throughout US history.

An invisible spacecraft turns up at the Battle of New Orleans, an alien presence is detected at the 1944 D-Day landings, and ghosts take over New York’s subway tunnels as they’re being dug in the early 1900s…

Review:

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

This was advertised in the Comics category, so I thought it’d be a comics, but it’s actually a collection of short stories. Ah, well.

Not sure what to think about it, really. I found it… just bland, to be honest. On the bright side, none of the stories come with glaring plot holes or annoying sidekicks, but on the other hand, none left me with a lasting impression either.

The main problems here for me are:
– The characterisation of the Doctor. The stories are supposed to feature Capaldi’s Doctor; it could be just any generic Doctor, though, the way he acts and is described. I could find no defining feature (even the eyebrows seemed weak!).
– Most of the stories’s endings are disappointing: too abrupt, or close to nonexistant. The fifth story, for instance, leaves a lot of things unsaid. The least I expect in a story about an assassin trying to off their target is the assassin’s motives, or who’s hired them. Here, nothing. It just ends.

“All That Glitters”: Forgettable. The plot is OK, but there’s are no surprised here, it’s all lvery classic, quickly solved, and a bit boring.

“Off the Trail”: This one had more of a creepy feeling, the “something’s wrong but we don’t know yet what” feeling. Still, the “enemy” was done with too quickly.

“Ghosts of New York”: Interesting theme, boring execution.

“Taking the Plunge”: A bit better. Not complicated, a simple enough plot to follow, but with more oompfh than the previous stories.

“Spectator Sport”: I seriously didn’t see the point. Tourism on battlefields in different eras is ethically bad. OK. I was more interested anyway in the crime story wrapped in it; however, the latter fizzled and petered out. (See above about this.)

“Base of Operations”: Considering its theme, it would have deserved a more complex resolution: I thought of all the stories, this was the most promising, the one with the strongest premise. At the end the Doctor was more like himself, with his determined stance of defending Earth and making sure the enemy’s aware of it.

Conclusion: 1.5 stars. I don’t recommend it, it is of little interest.

Yzabel / October 29, 2016

Review: The Radium Girls

The Radium Girls: They paid with their lives. Their final fight was for justice. by Kate Moore

My rating: [rating=4]

Blurb:

Ordinary women in 1920s America.

All they wanted was the chance to shine.

Be careful what you wish for.

‘The first thing we asked was, “Does this stuff hurt you?” And they said, “No.” The company said that it wasn’t dangerous, that we didn’t need to be afraid.’

1917. As a war raged across the world, young American women flocked to work, painting watches, clocks and military dials with a special luminous substance made from radium. It was a fun job, lucrative and glamorous – the girls themselves shone brightly in the dark, covered head to toe in the dust from the paint. They were the radium girls.
As the years passed, the women began to suffer from mysterious and crippling illnesses. The very thing that had made them feel alive – their work – was in fact slowly killing them: they had been poisoned by the radium paint. Yet their employers denied all responsibility. And so, in the face of unimaginable suffering – in the face of death – these courageous women refused to accept their fate quietly, and instead became determined to fight for justice.

Drawing on previously unpublished sources – including diaries, letters and court transcripts, as well as original interviews with the women’s relatives – The Radium Girls is an intimate narrative account of an unforgettable true story. It is the powerful tale of a group of ordinary women from the Roaring Twenties, who themselves learned how to roar.

Review:

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

This book was fairly difficult for me to read. Fascinating, but difficult, because of its theme (and I must say immediately, this is entirely personal): on the one hand, it was really interesting; on the other hand, having teeth/jaw problems myself, reading some of the symptoms the girls manifested triggered my own fears (even though, obviously, my own problems are totally minor compared to theirs!). And that was before the book got to the cancer parts. It made up for very strange reading sessions, where I’d pick up my Kindle, read a couple of pages, leave it, go back to it 2 minutes later because I still wanted to know what would follow, rinse and repeat. Very weird—but, as I mentioned, and to be fair, entirely personal.

One may wonder why I picked this book, knowing my fears about part of its themes—obviously I should’ve expected the latter. This said, having previously read a couple of articles about the Radium Girls, I simply wanted to know more: about when exactly it happened, over how many years, how they finally got justice, more details about the hurdles, and so on. And in that regard, the book definitely doesn’t disappoint. Or perhaps it will an actual historian of that period and of that specific theme, but let’s be honest, I doubt the audience for such works is entirely made up of professional researchers anyway. So there’s much to learn in these pages about the Radium Girls, and it provides much more than a mere introduction to the topic.

The writing style was one of the things that made the book interesting to read, by humanising the accounts of what happened to the Radium Girls: I doubt a dry, clinical style would have worked here, all the more because there were quite a few pages dedicated to describing symptoms of radium poisoning and court sessions. You can feel that the author was genuinely passionate about her topic, also in a more literary way, and wanted to show the women involved as real people, with their lives, husbands, families, and (quashed) hopes for the future, and not just as examples of the consequences of radium poisoning. This is even more poignant because it happened in the Roaring Twenties, with the glamour and glitz I think they project in many people’s minds: the girls appeared at first as so young, in love with life and dancing and going out, and it was so easy to picture them as happy-go-lucky flappers who never deserved such a fate (not that anyone deserves it, mind you).

This gave a humane dimension to what could otherwise have been a bit boring to read, I suppose—and provided for reading sections, instead of huge info-dumps. On the downside, I found this style sometimes cheesy; it worked in some chapters/paragraphs, it didn’t in others, when it felt like the author was “laying it a bit too thick”, so to speak. But that’s a minor complain on my part.

Also, since I got the ebook version for review, I didn’t get to see the picture that are inserted in the printed book . Too bad for me.

Conclusion: 4 stars. If you’re like me, this may trigger a few fears, yet the book and the light it sheds on a not-so-well-known part of US history made it all worth it.

Yzabel / October 25, 2016

Review: Orphans of the Carnival

Orphans of the Carnival by Carol Birch

My rating: [rating=2]

Blurb:

A life in the spotlight will keep anyone hidden.

Julia Pastrana is the singing and dancing marvel from Mexico, heralded on tours across nineteenth-century Europe as much for her talent as for her rather unusual appearance. Yet few can see past the thick hair that covers her: she is both the fascinating toast of a Governor’s ball and the shunned, revolting, unnatural beast, to be hidden from children and pregnant women.

But what is her wonderful and terrible link to Rose, collector of lost treasures in an attic room in modern-day south London? In this haunting tale of identity, love and independence, these two lives will connect in unforgettable ways.

Review:

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

This novel is based on the story of Julia Pastrana, a perforrmer and “freak” who lived in the 19th century; more than the typical “woman with a beard”, Julia was covered in hair, and had a facial condition that made her look like an ape. Throughout the story, we get to see here leave her hometown and the house where she had lived, to perform with a troupe, then with independent managers. More than a mere attraction, Julia sang and danced beautifully, something other characters find both fascinating and troubling: after all, is she really a human being, or merely an animal?

I found this attraction mixed with revulsion fascinating, for all the questions it raised. Most of the story is told from Julia’s point of view, and there’s no doubt she’s a human being, period, with her own thoughts, feelings, dignity, and desires in life. She may appear as a little passive at first (her fellow performers have to remind her to get a contract, not just take everything her manager send her way, and she let herself be prodded by doctors and scientists), but she reveals herself quickly as full of willpower: leaving the people she’s always known for the big unknown, and especially accepting her condition as something normal, something that’s part of her, while making use of skills that, in about everybody, would certainly garner admiration (singing, dancing, playing the guitar, acting). There’s some contradiction in her character, true; on the other hand, this is just part of the human condition—so many of us are creatures of contradiction.

But the world isn’t so kind to her, and while a lot of people are ready to pay just to see her, or are her friends (Ezra, Friederike…), some others don’t hesitate to criticise her, judge her as amoral, or as an abnormality that should be kept under lock and not shown to people. This definitely raises the matter of the “freaks” (Victorian period) and how they were perceived, not to mention what may easily be forgotten: that those people were, well, people first. In this way, the novel can be shocking—thus reflecting a very Victorian feeling, with “well-thinking people” judging those who’re different, while at the same time never judging themselves for gawking. (Also, there’s the matter of Theo’s decision later.)

This highlighted the tragedy of Julia’s life: people came to see her, but less for her skills than for her appearance. She was invited to social gatherings, but less for her personality than for others to “see the freak”. People talked about her relationship, but less out of happiness for the couple than to whisper in their backs about “does he does it with -that-?” It was all very sad, all the more because Julia can never free herself from her appearance, which in turns is limiting (she can’t go out without a veil, for instance, and in spite of travelling a lot, she doesn’t get to really see that many places).

Theo, well… Theo was less interesting. Mostly his character was of a mercantile quality (and at least he’s honest about that), and there was never any mystery about the part money/fame played in their relationship. Still, when things were told from his point of view, they never seemed as rich and interesting as when they were from Julia’s.

Julia’s story would have been a 3/4 stars. However, a few things prevented me from really enjoying it. First, Theo’s voice (as said, not very enthralling, especially when it dealt with his ambiguous feelings for her); I kept thinking that I would’ve wanted to see this relationship told only through Julia’s eyes, perhaps because there would’ve been more than a seed of wondering whether he truly loved her or just took advantage of the situation? Hard to tell. Also, the fact that Julia doesn’t stay that long with other performers, and apart from a couple of encounters with Ezra, Berniece and Cato later, mostly everything revolves around Julia and Theo, therefore: not much potential for various interactions.

Finally, the Rose narrative: I disliked that one, none of the characters were particularly appealing, and that story was only connected by a lose thread to Julia’s. I had expected something more… intense? More closely related? The way it was, it brought nothing to Julia’s story, and in the end my only feeling was “why did I bother reading those parts?”

Conclusion: 2.5 stars. Julia’s narrative didn’t need to be bogged down by Rose’s.