retelling Archives - The Y Logs

Yzabel / January 31, 2018

Review: Circe

My rating: [rating=4]

Blurb:

In the house of Helios, god of the sun and mightiest of the Titans, a daughter is born. But Circe is a strange child–not powerful, like her father, nor viciously alluring like her mother. Turning to the world of mortals for companionship, she discovers that she does possess power–the power of witchcraft, which can transform rivals into monsters and menace the gods themselves.

Threatened, Zeus banishes her to a deserted island, where she hones her occult craft, tames wild beasts and crosses paths with many of the most famous figures in all of mythology, including the Minotaur, Daedalus and his doomed son Icarus, the murderous Medea, and, of course, wily Odysseus.

But there is danger, too, for a woman who stands alone, and Circe unwittingly draws the wrath of both men and gods, ultimately finding herself pitted against one of the most terrifying and vengeful of the Olympians. To protect what she loves most, Circe must summon all her strength and choose, once and for all, whether she belongs with the gods she is born from, or the mortals she has come to love.

Review:

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

A few years ago, I had read and really liked “The Song of Achilles”, and I had high hopes for Miller’s “Circe”. I wasn’t disappointed.

A retelling of myths surrounded Circe, daughter of sun-god Helios and nymph Perses, this novel focuses of course on the eponymous character, from a much more humanised point of view, making her closer to us and easier to root for. I haven’t brushed up on my Greek mythology in quite some time, and my memories of what I knew about Circe were a bit foggy, but I quickly found my marks again—the deities she’s surrounded with, the mortals she meets (Odysseus being the most famous), as well as slight variations (although I don’t remember reading myths where Circe and Daedalus meet, that was definitely a touching addition, and not an illogical one anyway).

I do remember how, when I was much younger and got interested in Greek mythology, most of the legends I read were the usual male-centric ones, with figures like Circe or Medusa presented as antagonists, somewhat evil and monstrous, impediments to the heroes’ journeys. So whenever I get my hands on a retelling from their point of view, and it happens to be humanised and qualified *and* well-written on top of that, as is the case here, I’m definitely happy about it. Here, turning Odysseus’ men is much less an act of evil than a way for Circe to defend herself before the sailors do to her what previous sailors did (and she doesn’t do it immediately, she does ‘give them a chance’ and studies them first to see how they’re going to behave). Here, the heroes are larger than life, but through Circe’s gaze, we also see their mortality and the imperfections that go with it, the difference between what the bards sing of them and the men they actually were.

No one is perfect in this story; not Circe herself, not the gods, not the humans. In a way, even though half the cast is made of immortal deities, this novel is a study of humanity. Circe’s voice—a voice the gods perceive as shrilly, but is in fact, all that simply, a mortal’s voice, soft and weak compared to theirs—has a haunting quality, too, thanks to the poetic and evocative prose that carries the story. And so it takes us through her contradictions, her pain and hopes, her realisation that she’ll never get her father’s approval, her exile, and her lingering her regrets at what she did in the past (Miller went here with a version similar to Hyginus’, making Circe the cause to Scylla’s transformation, as well as Glaucus’ through her first act of witchcraft). From a little girl neglected by her parents and bullied by her siblings, she goes through life making mistakes, angry and exiled, but also learns from this, and becomes in time a wiser person, who won’t hesitate to stand up for what she cares for, using her magic to better ends.

This read was perhaps a little confusing without more than just a basic notions about Greek mythology (the glossary at the end helps, though). I’m also not entirely happy with the ending, which I probably would have enjoyed more had it been reversed. Nevertheless, I found it mostly enjoyable and enthralling.

Yzabel / January 7, 2018

Review: The Book of Joan

The Book of Joan by Lidia Yuknavitch

My rating: [rating=3]

Blurb:

In the near future, world wars have transformed the earth into a battleground. Fleeing the unending violence and the planet’s now-radioactive surface, humans have regrouped to a mysterious platform known as CIEL, hovering over their erstwhile home. The changed world has turned evolution on its head: the surviving humans have become sexless, hairless pale-white creatures floating in isolation, inscribing stories upon their skin.

Out of the ranks of the endless wars rises Jean de Men, a charismatic and bloodthirsty cult leader who turns CIEL into a quasi-corporate police state. A group of rebels unite to dismantle his iron rule—galvanized by the heroic song of Joan, a child-warrior who possesses a mysterious force that lives within her and communes with the earth. When de Men and his armies turn Joan into a martyr, the consequences are astonishing. And no one—not the rebels, Jean de Men, or even Joan herself—can foresee the way her story and unique gift will forge the destiny of an entire world for generations.

Review:

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

A tricky rating to give, for I did like some parts of this novel, but others just didn’t sit with me.

It made for intense read, for sure: for the catastrophe it depicts, the parallels it draws with our current world, the violence inflicted to characters (and especially women), the crude representation of a degenerated mankind, the desperate way the main characters live their lives. Christine and Trinculo, lovers in bodies that cannot experience physical pleasure anymore, united through skin grafts and art instead, as well as through their common support of Joan of Dirt, burnt for heresy. Leone, sexless and hardened warrior who never gives up. Nyx and their willingness to bring about destruction to help creation in turn.

One may or may not appreciate, also, the literary references. Jean de Men is most obviously a reference to Jean de Meung, and his perverted goals a direct echo of de Meung’s writings about women being deceitful and full of vice. In the same vein, Christine is Christine de Pisan, whose own writings attacked de Meung’s. Trinculo, both in name and behaviour, is the Shakespearian fool, whose apparently nonsensical language and insults are used to carry unconvenient truths. This goes further, since Christine is a feminist voice who lost her physical femininity, while Jean defiles bodies too close to his for comfort. As far as I’m concerned, those worked for me.

The writing itself, too, has beautiful moments, and weaves metaphors and descriptions in a way that gives the story a surreal aspect. Something larger than life, something that the characters try to reach for and clutch to, just like they clutch to their past sexualised humanity because they don’t really know what to do with their new bodies, much too fast devolved.

The science fiction side, though, didn’t work so well, and even though I was willing to suspend my disbelief, I couldn’t get over the evolutionary processes throughout the story. Joan’s power? Alright, why not. But human bodies degenerating to sexless, hairless, mutating in such a rapid way affecting everybody, not even on two or three generations but within one’s own lifetime? That’s just completely illogical. I see the intent, I understand it to an extent ( as it pitches this broken mankind with its broken bodies against the one being who brought destruction yet at the same time is the only one who can still bring about true creation), but it still won’t work for me from a scientific standpoint, which is something I still expect to see in a sci-fi/post-apocalyptic setting.

The writing deals with first person points of view that aren’t necessarily the same person’s from one chapter to the other, and it made the story confusing at times, until a hint or other made it clearer whose voice I was reading. At times, it made the narrative disjointed and the characters ‘remote’, which made it more difficult to really care for them.

Nevertheless, it was a compelling read that goes for the guts, violent despite—or because of?—its poetry.

Yzabel / December 31, 2016

Review: All Darling Children

All Darling Children by Katrina Monroe

My rating: [rating=2]

Blurb:

All boys grow up, except one.

On the tenth anniversary of her mother’s death, fourteen-year-old Madge Darling’s grandmother suffers a heart attack. With the overbearing Grandma Wendy in the hospital, Madge runs away to Chicago, intent on tracking down a woman she believes is actually her mother.

On her way to the Windy City, a boy named Peter Pan lures Madge to Neverland, a magical place where children can remain young forever. While Pan plays puppet master in a twisted game only he understands, Madge discovers the disturbing price of Peter Pan’s eternal youth.

Review:

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

I read Barrie’s book, as well as watched Disney’s Peter Pan movie, so long ago that I honestly can’t remember all details. Still, this retelling looked interesting, and so I decided to give it a try.

Madge, Wendy’s granddaughter, lives a not-so-happy life with her grandma, and keeps trying to escape to find her mother who may or may not be in Chicago. One night, when she finally gets a chance to leave, she gets spirited to Neverland: another chance, one to learn more about her family, her mum, and everything Wendy never told her. However, Neverland quickly turns out to be more terrifying than an enchanted island full of fairies and forever-boys. Clearly not the fairy tale a lot of children and people think about when they hear the name of ‘Peter Pan’ mentioned.

There are interesting themes and ideas in this book: what the boys’ rituals involve exactly, what happened to Jane, the slow disintegration of Neverland, what happened to Hook and Tiger Lily… I’ve always liked the “Hook as an ambiguous villain” approach, and here, he’s definitely of the ambiguous kind, since it’s 1) difficult to know if he wants to help or hinder, and 2) he’s no saint, but Pan is no saint either, so one can understand the bad blood between those two.

I was expecting more, though, and had trouble with some inconsistencies throughout the story. The time period, for one: it seems Madge is living in the 1990s-2000s—welll, some very close contemporary period at any rate—, which doesn’t fit with the early-1900s of the original story. I know it’s not the main focus, yet it kept bothering me no matter what: there’s no way Wendy could still be alive, or at least fit enough to bring up a teenager, and she would’ve had to give birth to Madge’s mother pretty late in life as well. And since there’s no hint that ‘maybe she stayed in Neverland for decades, which is why Jane was born so late,’ so it doesn’t add up. Also, Michael is still alive at the end? How long has it been? He must be over 100 or something by then.

None of the characters particularly interested me either. I liked the concept of Pan as tyrant, but I would’ve appreciate more background on this. And while Madge was described as someone who was strong enough to make things change, her actions throughout the story didn’t exactly paint her in that light; it was more about the other characters saying she was like that, or telling her what she had to do, and her reacting.

I found the ending a bit of an anticlimax. Things went down a bit too easily (I had expected more cunning, or more of a fight, so to speak?)… though props on the very last chapter for the people it shows, and for being in keeping with the grim underlying themes of Neverland (kids who ‘never grow up’, huh).

Conclusion: Worth a try, but definitely not as good as what I expected from a Peter Pan retelling.

Yzabel / March 6, 2016

Review: The Scarlet Letter

The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne

My rating: [rating=3]

Blurb:

A powerful tale of forbidden love, shame, and revenge comes to life in Manga Classics: The Scarlet Letter. Faithfully adapted by Crystal Chan from the original novel, this new edition features stunning artwork by SunNeko Lee (Manga Classics: Les Miserables) which will give old and new readers alike a fresh insight into the Nathaniel Hawthorne’s tragic saga of Puritan America. .Manga Classics editions feature classic stories, faithfully adapted and illustrated in manga style, and available in both hardcover and softcover editions. Proudly presented by UDON Entertainment and Morpheus Publishing.”

Review:

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

Caveat: the ARC copy I got was backwards, which doesn’t make it too easy to read on a Kindle or tablet. This won’t be an issue with the paper copy, though—and readers not used to manga format won’t be too lost, since this is explained in the book.

This isn’t the first manga in this series I read, and like the others, while obviously not dealing with every single detail of the novel from which it’s adapted, overall it provides an accurate enough reading of said novel, making it easily accessible. (Even though I haven’t read Hawthorne’s “The Scarlett Letter” in 10 years or so, and my memories of it are fairly fuzzy.)

While quite a few things are omitted, this is likely for the best. The novel is ripe with dialogue and descriptions that wouldn’t sit too well in comics format, and condensing the story was the only way to go. The stifling atmosphere of Boston when it comes to Hester living there after she got her “A” letter is depicted fairly accurately: townspeople shunning her for her sin, their hypocrisy when they nevertheless buy her embrodery and use her works daily, how they do so while telling others “don’t accept her works because she’s a sinner”, etc. Pearl’s wild streak is represented through her relationship with the forest, where she is presented as free, at ease, playing with wolves, and through her slightly slanted gaze, a bit mysterious, a bit like some kind of “witch-child”.

I wasn’t sure about a couple of things that were shortened, though. Chillingworth’s slow revenge, for one: I don’t think all the little things he did to make his “victim” more sick were so obvious in the manga. And some of the characters’ psychology—it would’ve been interesting to see more of Hester’s relationship with Pearl’s father.

The artwork, as usual in this series, is really good, with emphasis placed on clothing and on keeping the panels clear enough. The “A” letter is the only note of colour in the whole manga, a graphic choice that allows its weight to constantly bear on the characters no matter what they do.

Conclusion: As expected, it doesn’t and wouldn’t be able anyway to encompass everything Hawthorne included in his novel. However, I think this manga summarises “The Scarlet Letter” well enough, and could very well make a reader potentially interested in going further and reading the original story.

Yzabel / February 27, 2016

Review: Tell the Wind and Fire

Tell the Wind and Fire by Sarah Rees Brennan

My rating: [rating=2]

Blurb:

In a city divided between opulent luxury in the Light and fierce privations in the Dark, a determined young woman survives by guarding her secrets.

Lucie Manette was born in the Dark half of the city, but careful manipulations won her a home in the Light, celebrity status, and a rich, loving boyfriend. Now she just wants to keep her head down, but her boyfriend has a dark secret of his own—one involving an apparent stranger who is destitute and despised. Lucie alone knows the young men’s deadly connection, and even as the knowledge leads her to make a grave mistake, she can trust no one with the truth.

Blood and secrets alike spill out when revolution erupts. With both halves of the city burning, and mercy nowhere to be found, can Lucie save either boy—or herself?

Review:

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

A retelling of Dickens’s “A Tale of Two Cities”, with a futuristic and urban-fantasy twist: the two cities are the two halves of New York, Light and Dark, divided according the type of magic their respective citizens can wield. Light magic for healing, for dazzling, for fighting in the name of what is “good”, through the use of bejeweled rings. And Dark magic, feeding on blood and death, but necessary nonetheless because only a Dark mage can save a Light one when the latter finds themselves poisoned by the build-up of their own power, cristallised in their veins. And in the middle of this, the dopplegangers, always born to the Dark, and cursed to die young, bearing the faces of whose people they saved by simply being created, thus taking their misery upon them.

Lucie Manette used a to be a citizen of the Dark, until her mother vanished and her father got jailed, ending up so traumatised he cannot function properly some days. After Lucie devised a plan to make him escape, they went to live with a couple of friends in Light New York, and that’s where she discovered another kind of life: one where she could be close to powerful people, one where she found love with Ethan Stryker, handsome and heir to a brilliant future.

As a retelling, I thought this worked surprisingly well in some ways: the story followed quite a few of the themes of the original one. The torn family escaping a tumultuous place and finding refuge in an apparently more peaceful one. The motif of the “double”, dealt with here with the dopplegangers—Carwyn is obviously Sydney, and his reputation as “depraved” comes from his being a doppleganger, with all the rumours about them (they have no souls, they’re born from death, etc.). The mistaken identity. The love triangle (because there is a love triangle in Dickens’s novel, so even though I usually don’t care for them, at least here it was to be expected as a motif, too). Lucie as the narrator, yet still used as a symbol, still considered as the girl to be paraded, so to speak. Sacrifice and “doing what’s right”. I found those themes, and was glad to see them, and at the same time to see how different the plot had turned out.

On the other hand, quite a few things contributed to making this book not work for me. The characters, for starters, rather weak and underdeveloped. For most of the story, Ethan was the bland cookie-cutter nice boyfriend without much of a personality. Carwyn was snarky and all, but it was difficult to get a real feeling for who he was, and I admit that mostly what I ended up with were my memories of the character of the original novel, as a trope rather than a person. Lucie… Lucie was supposedly strong, but she kept making stupid decisions that I couldn’t understand, not in a character who was supposed to be “street-savvy”. Stupid upon stupid decisions, and for someone who had spent two years navigating a different world, and the years before surviving in the Dark, she was definitely bordering on the too stupid to live variety, in spite of her magic and the way she perceived herself (she does acknowledge when she makes a bad decision… afterwards—and then promptly makes another one). This character was baffling, really, and every time she made me think she was strong, she immediately destroyed that by doing something stupid again. (And what about going to such lengths to save her father, then never talking to her family in the Dark? It didn’t seem like they had done anything wrong…)

The plot was also slow-paced, a bit confusing at first, relying on a few chapters of info-dumping to make the setting clear. I’d say about half to two thirds of the story were somewhat boring, The last 30% made the novel more interesting again, however the ending felt too open (I don’t know if there’ll be a second installment, if this is a standalone novel or the beginning of a series). The situation in both cities isn’t solved. What happens to Lucie and her beloved ones isn’t solved either, and could go wrong in so many ways that we could do with an epilogue or an additional chapter. Lucie’s status as a symbol isn’t made clear either: will other people let her stand up for what she believes in, or will she be discreetly smothered in a corner after a while? After all, she said it herself: “the Golden Thread in the Dark” (not a fan of this tile, by the way, however it echoes well Lucie’s hair in AToTC) was a child, pure and innocent, but once the child becomes a woman, people start perceiving her differently, and the image she projects is different, too…

Last but not least, the typical “pocket-world syndrome” often found in dystopian stories. New York is clearly not the only place where people can use Light and Dark magic (trains go to other places outside of the city, for instance), but there’s never any mention of another type of government than the Light council, no mention of other cities, no National Guard or whatever to intervene when the revolution starts, and so on. It’s like Light & Dark New York are the only cities left on Earth, or as if the rest of the world doesn’t care, won’t do anything, won’t even turn an eye on its problems. I always find this odd.

All in all, it *was* an interesting retelling in several ways, and a darker kind of YA as well, but fell short of what I thought it could’ve been.

Yzabel / January 5, 2016

Review: This Monstrous Thing

This Monstrous Thing by Mackenzi Lee

My rating: [rating=3]

Blurb:

In 1818 Geneva, men built with clockwork parts live hidden away from society, cared for only by illegal mechanics called Shadow Boys. Two years ago, Shadow Boy Alasdair Finch’s life shattered to bits.

His brother, Oliver—dead.

His sweetheart, Mary—gone.

His chance to break free of Geneva—lost.

Heart-broken and desperate, Alasdair does the unthinkable: He brings Oliver back from the dead.

But putting back together a broken life is more difficult than mending bones and adding clockwork pieces. Oliver returns more monster than man, and Alasdair’s horror further damages the already troubled relationship.

Then comes the publication of Frankenstein and the city intensifies its search for Shadow Boys, aiming to discover the real life doctor and his monster. Alasdair finds refuge with his idol, the brilliant Dr. Geisler, who may offer him a way to escape the dangerous present and his guilt-ridden past, but at a horrible price only Oliver can pay…

Review:

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

Sort of a retelling of the “Frankenstein” story, based on the idea of “what if the latter had been inspired by real-life events”. In a world where clockwork (allowing to replace missing limbs in people, among other things) is considered in some places, due to its proponents’ reputation of not being fully human, Alasdair Finch and his family have been on the run for years, ending in Geneva where they secretly practice their craft as “Shadow Boys”. Since the elder brother, Oliver, died two years ago, though, nothing has been the same. It is, obviously, no spoiler to say that Alasdair brought him back through clockwork, and now has to deal with a different Oliver, back from the dead… and no brother quite know what to do with himself or each other anymore.

The characters themselves were interesting enough, with merits and flaws, doubts and questions regarding what they had done, what they should do… Oliver: convinced he was a monster, and having to learn who he was through Alasdair, since he first had no memory of his previous life. Alasdair, torn between his loyalty towards his brother and family and his desire to study with their former mentor, Dr. Geisler. Clémence, so hardened and savvy in many ways, yet also unsure of what her place in the world was. Mary, conflicted about the choices she made and the façade she presented to the world. Even some minor characters, whose own perception of clockwork isn’t always what you’d think.

I regretted however not seeing more of their inner questioning: we get a lot from Alasdair, since he’s the first person narrator, but the others seemed to have such torment to contend with, and it was “only” seen through Ally’s eyes, therefore tinged by his own view of the world. It mirrored the original work by Shelley, but didn’t have the same impact on me. Perhaps a third person narration, with a couple of other points of view, may have worked well here, if only to also let the reader witness other happenings—the plot remained slow in terms of events/action, yet not as devoted as it could have been to fully develop the whole philosophy and conundrums behind the Shadow Boys, clockwork, people having undergone such surgery after having lost a foot or an arm, the Frankenstein society, Mary Shelley’s actions and her somewhat questionable reasons… And although the ending was left open, it was also a little flat compared to what had been at stake.

I still deem this book pleasant to read, for the atmosphere it evoked and the themes it dealt with. I only wish it would’ve delved deeper into its, all in all, fascinating ideas.

Yzabel / October 7, 2015

Review: Harry Plotter and The Chamber of Serpents

Harry Plotter and The Chamber of Serpents, A Potter Secret Parody by M.J. Ware

My rating: [rating=2]

Blurb:

Austin comes to England knowing as an American he’ll stick out at his new school. But when an errant owl lands him at Hogwarts he’s in for more than he expected.

Review:

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

A somewhat funny idea, although in the end it didn’t go far enough to be more than quaint fanfiction. The story is basically that of the second Harry Potter book, from the point of view of an American pupil thrown into Hogwarts. It was mildly interesting, in that it inserted a different take on why some events got to unfold the way they did in the original novel (the cat hair ending up in the potion, for instance), as well as peeked into what may have been the daily life of other students than the ones we saw throughout Rowling’s series.

However, this should have been taken further, and to greater lengths, I think, in order to become a story of its own. As it was, it didn’t bring much to the Potterverse, because the “blanks” it filled weren’t many, and so it was mostly a retelling from a different perspective, rather than something really interesting. Austin being American didn’t play much of a part either; he could have been German or French, and it would’ve been roughly the same. The reason why he ended up in second year when he hadn’t attended the first wasn’t really explained either: “so that he’d be on the level with the Harry, Hermione and Draco of the official timeline” and “because he wasn’t in England before” are a bit of an easy cop-out.

Some aspects were tentatively explored (a Slytherin/Slipperen being friends with a Gryffindor/Gryffinbore, opening up to other people, all Slytherins aren’t uptight worshippers of pure blooded ancestry…), only not enough. It felt like an attempt to redeem this House by downplaying the others (Harry seen negatively…), in a “Slytherins are misunderstood” way, instead of delving further into what could’ve been complex House relationships. This is reflected in general in how the novel remained too close to the original one, and never soared away from it to become its own.

Also, seeing the names changed (Harry Plotter, Hogworts…) was strange: everything’s so close to the original that it doesn’t fool anybody. No doubt a matter of copyright, yet it made me wonder where Rowling stood regarding all of this. Did she allow it, and if yes, then why not a joint effort of sorts, using the real names and places? And if not allowed… then what? (Yes, you can tell I’m always torn when it comes to fanfiction. That said, the book’s free, which I can appreciate—making money off it would’ve been shameful.)

Fun enough if you want something light to read and on which you don’t want to focus a lot. Otherwise nothing exceptional.

Yzabel / June 2, 2015

Review: Uprooted

Uprooted by Naomi Novik

My rating: [rating=4]

Blurb:

“Our Dragon doesn’t eat the girls he takes, no matter what stories they tell outside our valley. We hear them sometimes, from travelers passing through. They talk as though we were doing human sacrifice, and he were a real dragon. Of course that’s not true: he may be a wizard and immortal, but he’s still a man, and our fathers would band together and kill him if he wanted to eat one of us every ten years. He protects us against the Wood, and we’re grateful, but not that grateful.”

Agnieszka loves her valley home, her quiet village, the forests and the bright shining river. But the corrupted Wood stands on the border, full of malevolent power, and its shadow lies over her life.

Her people rely on the cold, driven wizard known only as the Dragon to keep its powers at bay. But he demands a terrible price for his help: one young woman handed over to serve him for ten years, a fate almost as terrible as falling to the Wood.

The next choosing is fast approaching, and Agnieszka is afraid. She knows—everyone knows—that the Dragon will take Kasia: beautiful, graceful, brave Kasia, all the things Agnieszka isn’t, and her dearest friend in the world. And there is no way to save her.

But Agnieszka fears the wrong things. For when the Dragon comes, it is not Kasia he will choose.

Review:

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

This book had the edges of dark fairy tales, the ones in which the Happy Ever After only comes with sacrifices, tears and deaths. Agnieszka and her family have been living for as far as they can remember in the shadow of the Wood, a malevolent forest-entity with a will of its own, and in that of the Dragon, a powerful Wizard (not a real dragon) who comes to the village of Dvernik every ten years to take a young woman. While he always releases them in good health, covered in riches, and seemingly with no harm done, those girls are forever changed, to the point of never staying the village again. Of course, it’s not mystery here that the one who ends up being chosen isn’t the brave and beautiful Kasia, but the other girl, the one that nobody would have considered. (This was to be expected anyway, but having it given away in the blurb was still a bit annoying.)

There’s some romance in there, a kiss and a sex scene, and I admit I still don’t know what to make of those. Granted, the romance didn’t permeate everything, but there seems to be a consensus in too many stories that the guy has to be rude and challenging, and that if something happens, it’s because the girl was there in the first place. Sometimes it’s discreet enough not to leave a mark, and/or explained by the context; here, it was a tad bit too much on the “if you almost got raped, it’s because you stayed in your room instead of leaving” side. (Another book I read recently had a similar scene; however, at least there it was somewhat “justified” in that the characters would be under the influence of magic, and knew beforehand that they would be liable to lose control hence the warning. Though not so much better, it made at least sense.)

Another instance had a character say he’d announce his betrothal to Agnieszka, to which she was all “wait, what?”. Fortunately, it didn’t devolve in what I thought it would: good thing.

The world itself and the magic made up for those problems as far as I’m concerned. The plot was slow-building, and while I wished it’d go a little faster at times, it also allowed me to really discover the country where the girls lived, and to “feel” the Wood at my doorstep, so to speak. I also liked the spells: repetitive for some, I’m sure; interesting for me, because it was nice to try and pronounce them. (The world has a definite fairytale Poland/Russia feeling, reminiscent of some of the lesser known tales I used to read when I was a child.) Imagining their effects, imagining the clothes people wore, was easy. The inclusion of court politics later added a layer of complexity, with Agnieszka not being sure of who to trust, and with other, dark examples of what the enemy could do.

Kasia ended up playing more of a part than I expected, and I loved her for that. I would have liked to see more of her, get to know her more. She probably would’ve been as interesting as Agnieszka (I’m positive that she wouldn’t have spent so much time whining about her place in the Dragon’s tower). The friendship between those two young women was beautiful, too: they were both exposed to each other’s inner truth, to feelings each of them had secretly harbored, yet their bond and love for each other managed to survive and grow stronger, in spite of (or because?) that.

Agnieszka was somewhat annoying in the beginning, and a bit of the tomboy/as far as feminine as possible cliché. However, she “grew up” once she discovered what she could do, and decided to play her part while remaining herself, not giving in to peer pressure. She developed an inner strength and a courage of her own, instead of always admiring Kasia’s the way she did before the time came for the Dragon to choose, and she never relented in her decisions, even when the latter would involve getting in dangerous (but necessary) situations.

3.5 stars. I wasn’t awed by the romance, the “trigger” at some point made me really cringe, and the beginning and ending dragged a little. On the other hand, the world was really nice to read about, with an eastern fairytale approach that brought back a lot of memories; I liked how the main character progressed; and the Wood as an entity was fascinating, in all its twisted ways and convoluted schemes.

Yzabel / August 30, 2014

Review: Les Misérables (manga)

Manga Classics: Les Miserables by Stacy King

My rating: [rating=4]

Summary:

Adapted for stage and screen, loved by millions, Victor Hugo’s classic novel of love and tragedy during the French Revolution is reborn in this manga edition.

Review:

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

Though I’m a native speaker and have studied a lot of French classics during my high school and university days, I must admit, and not without shame, that I’ve never read Les Misérables—not the full version, that is. I only ever laid my hands on parts of it many, many years ago, mostly Cosette’s early life story, as well as Gavroche’s, and those were adapted for younger readers. In other words, I can’t pass judgement on this manga adaptation’s faithfulness regarding Victor Hugo’s original work. However, I can tell that it should at least make a lot of readers want to pick the actual book, and get to know the characters and the missing side stories better. It sure made me.

Because some side stories are missing, and the script writer’s bit at the end of the manga confirmed this. I do remember, for instance, that there was a part about Fantine’s lover/Cosette’s real father, and why they were separated. The same way, Gavroche’s story was shortened. There just weren’t enough pages available in manga format to properly put those in. Now, considering the original stories’ complexity, I still think the adaptation was well-done and interesting. The essential story lines remain, and all tie together as they should.

The drawings, too, seem to reflect the characters fairly well. Negative characters such as the Thénardiers are easily recognisable to their features. Cosette is cute, as she should be. Fantine’s drop from a beautiful woman to a destitute one is clearly shown as well. And the more ambiguous ones, such as Javert and Valjean himself, appear with serious features that allow the illustrator to depict their emotions, especially when they go through rethinking their purposes in life. Overall, the illustrations were really pleasant and fitting.

As an adaptation, it might seem a little light in places to someone who already knows the whole work. On the other hand, someone discovering it, or only knowing part of it, would likely be drawn (no pun intended) to pick Hugo’s books later on. It’s a pretty good thing in my opinion.

(Beware, though, of the ebook format—which is the one I got, as an ARC: the PDF reflects the order of the printed pages, which means you have to go to the end of the manga first, and then scroll your way back to the “beginning”. I’m used to doing this, so it didn’t matter much to me, but it can be surprising and annoying at first.)

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).