Hall of Records

A Night on the Orient Express

I won this through twitter a couple of weeks ago. I probably would never have picked this up myself and would likely have declined if a friend or colleague had offered to lend it to me. It just seemed so far removed from my usual tastes in literature. And that’s just the thing: I had trouble getting into and enjoying my usual reads. I’ve been terribly exhausted when I returned from work and it was the height of summer and unbearably hot, and I expected some light romance reading to do me some good. For me, the title reference to the Orient Express hinted at slight notion of mystery (silly literature-spoilt me!)

So, I went into this with an open heart and was intrigued that the narration set off with a spotlight on 84 year-old Adele Russell. Continuing with the introduction of characters who would embark on the journey from the Orient Express from Paris to Venice, I was quickly ensnared in their back-stories, precisely in how they came to be aboard the train. The novel follows the stories of four groups of people and the developments in their relationships during their short stay on the Orient Express, interspersed with snippets and anecdotes of Adele’s past love affair with art collector/dealer Jack Molloy.

While reading one of the earlier chapters I suspected that this wasn’t the cheery romance novel I had expected, as some of the characters back-stories saddened me a lot. This isn’t your run-of-the-mill love story – but it is far from being a depressing sob-story either. So all is good.

Pirate Cinema

Actual rating 3-3.5 stars, +0.5 Doctorow fangirl bonus added

Having re-read Little Brother a few months before starting Pirate Cinema and finding it just as enticing and engrossing as the first time around, this book had its competition cut out for it. I already felt sorry for the poor book!

Deadly Cool

This was a quick read of a fast paced, entertaining novel, told from the POV of 16 year old Hartley Featherstone who just learned that her boyfriend, Josh, is cheating on her and then finds the girl he’s cheating on her with in his closet – dead.

This book feels like a mash up of a number of teenage drama TV shows and high school flicks, set in a predominantly white, middle-class world, with all the relevant tropes exaggerated to a point it feels like parody. It’s ridiculous and really quite entertaining. My pleasure reading this was completely due to Hartley’s narrative, whose recounts of her plunging headfirst into all kinds of embarrassing or dangerous situations are quick-witted, snarky, cheeky and never take themselves too seriously. There’s quite a bit of banter and it’s done nicely.

Masque of the Red Death

The melancholy atmosphere drew me in right away, but it didn’t manage to hold my attention for long as the main protagonist, Araby Worth, increasingly annoyed me with the thoughtless decisions she made. In fact, she didn’t seem to make any conscious decisions, decisions based on reflection and forethought, at all, but stumble in whatever direction she was turned.

The Great Man - Kate Christensen 
I’m quite grateful to the former colleague who left this book in my office despite my protestations that I don’t have the time to read this as well and that I’m not interested and that I already have several dozen books at home waiting to be read (and reviewed) anyway. I can honestly say that I would never have picked up The Great Man myself. The book cover and synopsis looked totally unappealing to me. Since she always reads everything I lend her I felt compelled to at least take this book home with me and add it to the stack of books she’s already forced on my in the previous months. And the very next day I decided to read the first few pages so I would be justified to say “not my cuppa” and put it aside – at least I would have tried. Interestingly, I kept reading.

The Friday Society

This is a fun read of the fluff variety. If you were looking for deep thoughts and philosophy, you wouldn’t pick up The Friday Society, but if you are looking for an adorable trio of independent (even though all three of them are in some kind of servant position to a male adult, nothing kinky, mind), adaptable, strong-willed and fast-thinking vigilantes trying to solve crime (that the police are uninterested in or incapable of solving) in a turn-of-the-century steam-punk London, this might keep you entertained for a while. There are some passages that drag on and more critical readers will be able to list numerous flaws, I’m sure, the characters of Michiko, Nellie, and Cora are nicely fleshed out. While light on actual steam-punk elements (as well as turn-of-the-century ambience), the use of the newly discovered cavorite, a mineral that can be used to defy gravity, was a great means to introduce all kinds of improbably inventions and will enable Kress to create a very special world of her own. The protagonists work in their own right and will form a great team, each equally and significantly contributing to the teams success.

The Friday Society works best as an introductory volume to a series. The actual amount of narrative allotted to he girls working together is rather small compared to the time Kress’ takes to introduce and characterise each one individually. There is room for this to mature into an interesting and entertaining series, but this is a good beginning.

I read this book months ago and always put off writing a review because I wanted it to be a good one, a detailed one. Going through my notes just now I realized that I don’t want to anymore. Even those scenes I noted as being particularly interesting or contradictory don’t interest me that much anymore. I remember being entertained reading the book, but also put out by the love story parts, Tris’ underlying anxiety and some rather stupid generalizations and observation (for example, cigarettes are closely tied to vanity in the novel’s world – I would understand if they saw a connection to self-destruction, but how is it vain to smoke? There were a number of things that didn’t make sense to me even though I managed to easily suspend my disbelief regarding the bigger issues.). The questions relating to how the world arrived at the current circumstances interested me most but were never satisfactorily answered.

I know, I know - I'm not supposed to excessively include quotes in a book review, but I have never consider my incoherent ramblings about my enjoyment of the books I’ve read to be proper book reviews anyway, and this isn't goodreads where I'm told what is good and proper and will be punished if found violating their precious policy, so what the hell.

Contains some mild spoilers.

I am really undecided about my opinion of his conclusion to the Hunger Games trilogy. I certainly like that we are not served the typical happy ending (not accounting for the epilogue that is, which I found totally unnecessary), but I can’t shake the feeling that the story went out with a weak poof instead of the anticipated BANG!. I guess that I understand what Collins is trying to show here, which does not mean that I like it.

It’s about absolute power and the strife for absolute power and what people are willing to sacrifice for the supposedly “greater good”. We get to see the machinations behind the struggle for power and how people are objectified whenever necessary. What is the role of District 13? What are its ultimate goals? Can you equate the people living in District 13 with those running it? What does it take to be a leader?

So I tried to catch up on ‘Geek and Sundry’ instead of attempting to write a single review as I had planned to do. Luckily, I need the pressure of someone actually wanting to hear my thoughts on a book. Thanks Sam and Kerry for providing that. :) So, here are my unedited ramblings that deal less with The Demon’s Lexicon and more with my current troubles enjoying this particular kind of books.

I’m sure that most everyone will like The Demon’s Lexicon. Really like it. Unspoken was a refreshingly entertaining read and it’s evident that Sarah Rees Brennan’s charmingly snarky style was not invented for that book only. While the narrator’s voice in The Demon’s Lexicon is not identical with the one of Unspoken, the humour is similar if a little bit darker.

I just couldn't get past the grown man sucking a little girl's toes. There might have been a perfectly reasonable explanation (snake bite?) for the incident later on in the book, but the first mention weirded me out so badly that it was always in the back of my mind and overshadowed my reaction to the protagonists’ relation. I felt like I had to constantly look over my hunched shoulders and I could not relax as long as I kept reading - so I stopped. I had wanted to read this for years and when my colleague gave the book to me with almost exuberant praise, I dived right in, but unfortunately, dear book, you met me in an unforgiving mood. Don't freak me out so early on. Give me time to adjust. Then I can take most everything you might throw at me. Honestly, I've read far worse depictions of really commended acts and not even batted an eye, but you encountered me in a squeamish phase of my life (which probably didn’t last that long). Until we meet again. Better luck next time.

The first 150 pages or so had me sitting almost biting my nails in suspense wondering what would happen next (or rather when something would happen finally). However, I have to admit that early black-and-white photography portraying serious people in rigid postures and unsmiling faces creep me out no matter what. There might have been a horror movie or two that I watched at too young an age. Anyway, fuelled by this little sepia-phobia of mine I read on expecting some big horrific moment to take me by surprise on turning every other page. Somewhere in the back of my mind a little voice reminded me that this novel was marketed as YA and that things probably wouldn’t get hat bad. And they didn’t. Not one bit. Which was a bit of a letdown. The whole suspenseful exposition just somehow petered out, turning into regular YA: Baby X-Men stuck in time loop for own safety no longer so very safe have to face threats or die trying.

I was very excited to read this and I was well aware that I would compare this to Little Brother constantly. Little Brother blew me away and any novel so closely related to it in scope and theme would have a hard time passing scrutiny.

The first chapter didn’t quite pull me in. I understood that it was supposed to set the tone, that the freedom of the Burning Man festival was intended as a stark contrast to the oppressiveness and bleakness of the ‘real world’ waiting back of Chicago. I found it remarkable that all the positive aspects of Burning Man were brought out in opposition to everyday life: the absence of surveillance, commercial transactions etc. Burning Man acted as a counterpoint and, for me, added to the sense of oppression and captivity and the constraints exercised by society waiting on the return to ‘civilisation’. The need to point out how great it is that something is absent in a confined space and time only emphasises how fucked-up reality really is. Of course, the happy, carefree, and peaceful setting of the first chapter also served to make the invasion of outside forces, intent on disrupting the harmonic atmosphere of this seeming paradise, even more shocking.

This was great fun for the most part. I tried to read my favourite bits to my boyfriend but found myself doubled over, tears streaming down my face and choking with suppressed laughter within seconds.

My favourite scene has to be little Gabi’s unconscious revenge on her grandfather for the childhood nightmares he inflicted on her mother and aunt as depicted in “Stanley, the Magical Talking Squirrel.” Every time I read this one I’m uncontrollably giggling like a maniac, unable to stop until I’m shaking with glee.

Charm

There’s this 1973 Czechoslovak/East German film adaptation of the fairy tale that has been showing on TV every Christmas for as long as I can remember: Tři oříšky pro Popelku or Drei Haselnüsse für das Aschenbrödel. It is still one of my favourites, even though I cling more to the memory of it than actually watching it these days because it’s cringeworthy and over-the-top sweet at times. And it’s IMPOSSIBLE to watch with the boyfriend hovering nearby, groaning and rolling his eyes. But I know – for a fact! – that the film has charmed its way into the lives and memories of generations of girls and women (at least of those grown up in the Eastern bloc countries). It’s the opposite of any Disney versions despite it’s almost ridiculous cuteness (accentuated by the brilliant film score) and happy endings. The heroine in the film is what you’d call a strong female character. She runs around in boy’s clothing and hunts when it suits her and mocks and provokes the prince, who has to woe and convince her of his worth by solving the riddles she poses to him. She endures the hardships of life and the mistreatment at the hands of her stepmother and stepsister without complaint. The actress portraying this version of Cinderella, to my mind, is one of the prettiest women I’ve seen. The prince, despite being a bit foppish in his tight pantaloons and tiny hats, was definitely worthy of being a little girl’s crush.

For me, the memory of this film is what every new Cinderella adaptation has to compete with. And, oh boy, Sarah Pinborough did not exactly set out to make the reader fall in love with her Cinderella. There’s no glossed-over depiction of the silently suffering, kind, loved-by-all heroine. We are treated to a very real, sometimes petulant and demanding young woman. And instead of gradually revealing her redeeming qualities and making the reader understand and sympathise with her earlier antics, the things that progressively come to light, while not wholly condemning, make her out like a spoilt, ungrateful brat. However, Cinderella is by no means the villain in this tale. Nor are the surrounding characters flawless and perfect. Even though I developed a strong dislike for Cinders in the early stages of the novel, I couldn’t help but hope for her to find her way and right some wrongs as the story continued. Not that I had much hope that Sarah Pinborough would comply to my wishes, having read Poison. I think that I’m still owed some more answers but will have to wait for the third book in the series. Some of the loose threads in Poison have been taken up and brought to satisfying conclusions that still leave opportunities for future entanglements. That’s been done very nicely, I might add. I hope that the ending gave hints at what (and whose stories) to expect in the next instalment.

I’ve seen Poison described as a sexy, steamy, even smutty book and I didn’t concur with the sentiment after having finished the book. Sure, there was a bit of sex there, and it wasn’t vanilla or romantic, but it wasn’t particularly graphic or scandalous either. Not that I minded. It was there. It served the story. It didn’t make me feel awkward or embarrassed or disgusted. It was completely in line with the characterisation.Even though there’s very little in terms of actual, erm… penetration in Charm, I have to admit that I found the sensual (or erotic?) scenes here racier by far. It wasn’t much more than wild fantasising and “heavy petting” but more intense. I don’t know, maybe it was the heat wave making me more perceptible but my eyes certainly went wide a couple of times and my breath might have been held for a few seconds. Might! I don’t remember. It’s all a blur!

The thrill reading these scenes was in that the reader always knew or was able to deduct more than the characters involved in these sexual acts and would invariably start guessing at the possible consequences and repercussions, while the protagonists were swept away by passion and bliss. And again, Pinborough does not simply insert gratuitous sex in order to have her novels marketed as “sexy romps”. It’s all in keeping with the characters. A sex scene reveals more about a characters selfishness and forbearance than a piece of dialogue. While I enjoyed Poison, I really, really liked Charm, which is no meagre feat considering the tough competition of a 1973 Czechoslovak film it had to go against.

The Coldest Girl in Coldtown

I admit to being weary of books featuring vampires and targeted at a young adult market. Very weary. Holly Black’s The Coldest Girl in Coldtown sounded interesting and while I was keeping a watchful eye out for the usual pitfalls that made me cringe with contact-embarrassment and snort with derision in my previous forays in the genre, I thoroughly enjoyed my time reading the book. This was the very first arc I’ve received and I was worried that reading an uncorrected proof might diminish my reading pleasure, since I usually get pretty annoyed by the tiniest copy editing glitches, but I found myself easily ignoring the unfinished layout as I was sucked in by Black’s masterful storytelling.

The story begins with its protagonist Tana waking up in the bathroom at a party she attended the night before and her worrying about the social repercussions her passing out drunk might have in terms of mockery and pictures taken. It quickly occurs that there is no one left to spread the tale of her humiliation as the only rule for sundown parties, to bar every access to the rooms once the sun’s gone down, has been broken and all the party goers haven been killed. With the exception of her ex-boyfriend Aidan, whom she finds tied to a bed but still very much alive and hungry – for blood, her blood. Beside Aidan she discovers another boy, a vampire, gagged and in chains. And something else is stirring in the house. The vampires, who’ve killed the other partygoers and apparently chained this lone vampire are preparing to finish them off at last.

Tana resists her instincts to flee to safety while the sun is up and decides to safe her friend AND the chained vampire and is grazed by one of the attacking horde of vampires in the process. We learn that vampirism is considered an infection that is caught by a vampire’s bite. The infected turns Cold and starts craving human blood. Once they’ve succumbed to the ever-growing desire for blood and bite a human, they’ll die and turn vampire. Anyone infected is supposed to turn themselves in to the Coldtowns, cordoned off parts of cities that house vampires and infected (and humans who choose to stay or didn’t get a chance to leave) and remain there – forever.

As we follow Tana and the travellers she picks up along the way into the Springfield Coldtown, we get to see different ideas and reasons for turning oneself into a Coldtown, the machinations and political designs behind their establishment and continuation.

Tana’s family has experienced infection before and the reactions of the remaining family members to the news of Tana’s possible infection, given in terse text messages, are heartbreaking. I was worried that Tana’s own experiences might be used to portray her as someone special, as some kind of Chosen One, but fear not!: what makes Tana special is her courage, her consideration, her empathy, and her resolution to make hard decisions and see them through.

Tana is kick-ass but not fearless – and not infallible. It’s her frequent mentioning of doubts and fears that make her such a relatable character. And the bonus of wry humour makes her a likeable one. Due to my apprehension of the genre in general, I suspected the love triangle looming with every encounter with either Aidan (the ex-boyfriend) or Gavriel (the rescued vampire), but not once was I exposed to angsty perambulations about whom to choose. This question didn’t concern Tana at all. It wasn’t even a question posed! Her main concern was to safe her friend, safe herself, prevent Her little sister from danger, and ultimately defeat the evil Ubervampire. Yes, there was some kind of romance, but Tana is neither obsessing nor distressing about nor desperately craving it. She’s realistic. She’s practical. She pays more heed (jokingly) to her ruining every dress she puts on with gore and blood and mud than to prospects of undying love. She’s no Mary Sue either. Some of her decisions seem impulsive rather than well thought through, but this is a fast-paced, tumultuous adventure that leaves her with little time for pondering the most prudent course of action and leads to rash action. And blood. And death. And pain. And all that makes for a very entertaining read that is, unfortunately, finished all too quickly.

Also, there’s one William Willingham making a minor (and posthumous, mostly) appearance in this novel, which made me smile a lot.