Hall of Records

I Am Half-Sick of Shadows

I picked this one up expecting only to read a few pages and to put it aside again in favour of something else but found myself once again sucked into Flavia’s world right away. Obviously, I got a bit impatient at the repeated background information as I was eager to get on with the story. Yes, yes, it’s needed for the readers who dive into the middle of the series, I know.

Flavia is still an adorable protagonist. The supporting characters are just as intriguing and peculiar as in the previous adventures. Everyone seems to be surrounded by a mystery of their own and Bradley adds more layers to them with every new novel. Superbly done.

I admit that I am a bit worried about Flavia’s apparent lack of personal attachment. She cares deeply for Dogger, that much is clear. Her sisters are an altogether different topic. Even though she would never admit it, she yearns for her sisters’ acceptance and love, but neither of them would ever allow themselves to show affection for the other, which is explained away by way of upbringing and a bit “stiff upper-lippiness”. Flavia also seemed to get on well and have a connection with actress Phyllis Wyvern, who came to Buckshaw for the filming of a movie. However, as soon as Flavia gets into the sleuthing she seems to detach herself from every personal emotion. This is most likely a trait of every great detective, but it seems a bit disturbing in one so young: treating someone as a surrogate mother figure one moment and only taking a scientific interest in a murder victim the next.

All in all, it was great fun. I couldn’t put it down and I vow to devour whatever Bradley churns out next.

The Time Traveller’s WifeI 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.

Enclave (Razorland Series #1)

 

Meet Deuce. Deuce is part of a community of people, survivors of a catastrophe in the not-so-distant past, who are forced to live in abandoned subway tunnels, heavily secured and guarded against the dangers that lurk outside their enclave. The community leaders’ sole goal is to ensure the survival of the species. Emotional bonds in any form are discouraged. When a person comes of age (at age 15), he or she gains the right to a name and is sorted into one of three categories: either builder, breeder, or hunter. And they seem strangely accepting of this exclusive setting of their future. Due to the deprivations and hardships of living in these underground conditions, where food and light are scarce and danger abundant, a person hardly grows to be 30.

The War at Ellsmere

 

It’s more of your typical underdog beats’em all story, though it’s nicely rendered. I guess I like Gunnerkrigg better, but I wouldn’t mind reading more about Juniper and Cassie.

Before I Fall

After having found so much pleasure in Liesl and Po, I wanted to read more by Lauren Oliver and while the different target audience of Before I Fall made me afraid that I wouldn’t be as wowed by her acclaimed debut novel, I was quickly proven wrong and sucked into the story of Sam Kingston’s final day.

Sam Kingston is part of the popular crowd at her local high school and she’s a bitch. And she dies. Again and again. Reliving the same day, the day she dies, seven times, trying to figure out how to survive to the next day, how to go into the light and stay dead, hoe to change her fate, how to change the outcome of events for other people.

As more layers of her personality are uncovered, we learn how Same became the apparently shallow and self-centred queen bee she is today. While your usual YA heroine is self-conscious and seemingly blind to all the love and admiration directed at her by EVERYONE she encounters, Sam is only liked and accepted by a very small crowd of people, despite being one of the “most popular” girls at her school. “Popular” translates as “most feared” here. In fact, most of the other kids are terrified by her and her friends and actually hate her, but everyone knows her and that is what really counts above all. Never mind the underlying reasons for the girls’ aggressive meanness, their own insecurities which they try to cover up by instilling fear in others (fear=power), it’s uncanny how no one even makes an attempt to stop the in-crowd’s reign of terror.

Sam is no perfect, well-meaning heroine. Thanks to Oliver’s extraordinary narrative technique, we see how and why Sam changed from a bully’s victim to an uncaring high-school queen, and we experience her struggles to change again. It is sometimes frustrating to see her stumble through her last chances, but I grew to love Sam exactly for all her imperfections.

Sam grows a lot in her final day. She realises that she is indeed a real bitch and that there is no justification for her past behaviour. In time, she gets over her low self-esteem and dares to stand up against those she had followed blindly despite her better judgment, and to voice a differing opinion. But it takes time for her to realise what drove her to become the bitch she is now and confront her own and her friends’ interpersonal shortcomings. She tries to make amends, fails, tries again, fails again, is ready to give up (but the “groundhog day” structure of the story renders this a more or less futile notion), is frustrated, angry, confused, tries again…

And I was never bored. Sometimes I was wriggling with impatience at Sam’s choices but since that’s the learning she has to complete and I chose to follow her along her way, I had to gnash my teeth and hope for the next day. I was often dissatisfied with her action, or inaction, or really her character and personality, but I never lost faith in Sam’s “getting there.”

Lauren Oliver does not gloss over Sam’s shallow, egotistical traits. She has Sam reveal the most unflattering things about herself without sugar-coating them. It’s a very honest narrative with less of the usual teenage self-deception and self-flattery. Despite the many things to dislike about Sam, I rooted for her finding a satisfying way out of the misery that February 12 is for her. I, for one, while a bit disappointed at the lack of real redemption for any of the characters (curse my soft heart!), I ultimately found the ending appropriate and satisfying. A happy ending would have diminished the gravity of the story.

Lauren Oliver shows and exceptional talent when using simple language to manipulate the reader’s emotional reaction. I was almost moved to tears at time.

Anna Dressed in Blood

I was reluctant to read this because I really didn’t want to read yet another story told from a first person POV, but a sigh of relief escaped me when I realised that a male main protagonist might be interesting for a change. As it turned out, not ghost hunter Cas would become my favourite character, but Anna, the target of Cas’ latest mission in ridding the earth of evil presences. I was also quite surprised at how much I liked this.

I didn’t think that Anna Dressed in Blood was exactly scary, but there were some surprisingly violent outburst described in detail and a number of unexpected deaths. One could say that the victims had it coming, but I usually expect the meanies and bullies in YA literature to at least get a chance at redemption, an opportunity to see the error of their ways and repent. It was quite refreshing to see short work made of them here.

Our lonely hunter Cas has to undergo some changes in his usual routine. Following his learning curve is quite appealing. I wasn’t sure for how long I would be able to endure Cas’ repeatedly telling the reader why he simply couldn’t quit his ghost hunting occupation to live the “normal” life he’s apparently yearning for. He indulged in believing that he alone carried the weight of the world on his shoulders and that got fairly annoying pretty quickly. But he realised that he did not need to be completely self-reliant and embraced the assets others may bring to the party as well.

The lonely hunter becomes part of a team! I seem to have a penchant for supporting characters, be it in literature or TV. No matter how annoying the main characters may be, if he or she is surrounded by adorable minor characters, I’m prone to see it through. The supporting cast in Anna Dressed in Blood have the potential to be more than mere sidekicks and prove valuable in the fight against the big baddie. They are nicely characterised and have distinct voices, which is no meagre feat to accomplish in a first-person narrative. As usual, I wanted to see more of them than I got. I also liked how Blake integrated the adult characters in a useful way. The absent (dead) father is a trope to emphasise Cas’ compulsive belief that is his fate to continue the ghost hunting no matter what.

I love that the action is not blindly centred around the main protagonist. The characters interact in a (more or less) natural and believable way in the most incredible of circumstances. Well, for someone who is supposedly highly intelligent and vocal, Carmel was acting rather thick-headed in the scenes that led up to the first visit to Anna’s house. I can’t believe that she didn’t see coming what was about to transpire. [She must have had an inkling that her ex-boyfriend would not simply embrace her new love interest, but that at least a prank if not violence would ensue.]

There was a lot to like in this novel. I’m not sure what to think of the ending. It didn’t make me all giddy in anticipation of the next book in the series. But give me a set of scoobies, each with their own distinctive characteristics, each contributing to the success or failure of the mission in their own way, each with their internal tribulations, struggles, and contradictions, and I’m as happy as a clam in a mud tide.

Don't Kill Animals! Not Cool!

I don’t necessarily feel the need to cry to enjoy a book, thank you very much. So I have to repeat that, for me, the death of an animal equals emotional blackmail. The death of an old, smelly cat weighs much more heavily on me than the deaths of a couple of teenagers who still had all of their life… and so on and so forth… I can’t help it: If an animal has to die in a book, even if it does so peacefully of old age, after a wonderful and blissful life, I’m left deeply shaken. Stop doing this to me, authors!

Unearthly

So, a book about angels, or semi- or quarter-angels, or whatever. I was prepared to be seriously underwhelmed. I expected this to be silly, and not in a good way silly. But lo! I was pleasantly surprised.

Reading about Clara’s life in a new town, the friendships she makes, and the tough choices she has to make was entertaining and compelling. Most of the time she seems preoccupied to figure out and define her destiny, but I was never annoyed as with most of YA self-centered cry babies.

I’m a bit ambivalent about the ending, not sure that I like it, but it certainly leaves the door open to more interesting developments and comprehensive, greater implications. So, bring it – I hope the next book won’t be too heavy on the love triangle.

The one aspect I didn’t like at all was the introduction of the evil, dark (maybe fallen?) angel, which was a bit too reminiscent of evil Twilight vampires for me. Then again, it’s probably me, not you, Unearthly. I tend to see horrible allusions to the abominable series in every other YA novel. I’m possibly cursed and possessed that way. But Clara is no Bella Swann and that’s a blessing.

Fables Vol. 17: Inherit the Wind - Bill Willingham  Fables 17 – Inherit the Wind

The story centers around the search for the North win’s heir, who is to be found among the cubs of Bigby Wolf and Snow White. The other great Winds plot to overtake power.

Rose Red explores her destiny.

Bufkin leads a group of rebels in a distant kingdom.

Miss Spratt pursues sinister plans of her own.

Bellflower (Frau Totenkinder) and Dunster Happ return.

I’m still loving this series.

Phoenix Rising

Fast, entertaining, gripping, and humorous. Phoenix Rising features a dynamic duo with great chemistry and a lot of enjoyable banter. Great world-building and characterisation. Also: depiction of sexual debauchery including the drugging of unwilling participants and hunting humans. There’s some discussion of the feeling of superiority and subsequent entitlement. We get books, and gadgets, and seriously villainous villains, and kick-ass heroes.

Gender roles are tweaked in this steam-punk Victorian setting, but not completely reversed, fortunately. What I mean is that Wellington Books is no mere bookish and squeamish Daisy. He has his reasons for acting the way he does and I hope to see more exploration of his past and the ancestral baggage he so obviously carries in later instalments. Eliza is daring, loud-mouthed, reckless even. Wellington and Eliza start of as an unlikely duo and neither of them is thrilled at being partnered with the other, but a crime to solve and a common enemy to focus on turn them into a force to reckon with. Bold and Clever move, Doctor Sound!

The evil elitist brotherhood is not the most imaginary of adversaries, but it’s interesting to see how they are played as well.
Oh, that the novel is set in London (a steampunky one, no less) certainly added to my enjoyment, but I didn’t really concentrate too much on the setting as the characters were far too entertaining not to give them my full attention.

The ending felt a bit rushed, but that’s probably to be expected in a fast-paced, action-packed finale. I fear that I missed quite a few alluded revelations, but this will be remedied with the next reading.

Insurgent

I have been putting off writing this review for so long now, I hardly remember anything about Insurgent. That’s how captivating it was for me.

I dimly recall the constant repetition of recurring themes like trust issues and teenage angst making me itch with impatience most uncomfortably. And the whole love drama had me pulling out my hair in strands.

I didn’t care for a single one of the characters. I actually wanted violent things done to them. I felt cheated. I felt stupid. Why did I ever board the hype train when I didn’t share the enthusiasm for Divergent in the first place? Because I’m naturally curious and will read on or keep watching in hopes that action will pick up and plot will make sense and characters will develop (preferably a personality, backbone, common sense, …), that’s why. Nevermore! Before I purchase a second book in a series that didn’t manage to ignite my passion with the first instalment eve a little bit, all books in the waiting to-be-read pile will have to be read, all previous favourites will have to be re-read and (properly) reviewed, all owned DVD collections will have to be re-watched, and the lottery will have to be won.

Or I’ll just forget all my resolutions by the time the next hype train comes along. Damn you all for writing such gloriously enticing reviews that I cannot resist against my better judgment. I should have known that Insurgent wasn’t for me but you made me doubt myself with your eloquently seducing reviews, fellow goodreaders who had the good luck to be blown away by this.

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.

Araby is one of the privileged few who can afford a life style of narcotics and debauchery, and, most importantly, an air-filtering mask that supposedly protects its wearer from the disease that is ravaging most of the city’s population. Araby’s brother, who always was weaker than her, succumbed to this plague. Blaming herself for her brother’s untimely death, Araby vows never to experience anything that he had no chance to experience himself. Like love. Or physical intimacy. Or using her brain for actual thought. Strangely enough, this vow of abstinence and self-sacrifice does not seem to include clubbing and drug abuse, two things Araby indulges in quite frequently as a means to escape the bleakness of the world around her.

Araby is only privileged to wear a life-protecting mask because her father is a scientist in the employ of the prince. We learn that her father was foremost in the invention and manufacturing of the extremely expensive masks that protect the rich and powerful [and as is revealed later on, he might also have been conducive in the unleashing of the plague in the first place].

Soon there are two love interests in Aaraby’s life, neither of which she is really dealing with, but just following along, wanting but denying herself any pleasure for most of the time. One, who does not belong to her rung on the social ladder and whom Araby has been having a crush on for quite some time, is gallant and caring. The other is a member of the aristocracy with plans to change the status quo and lead a revolt to make life better for everyone, who came across as quite sinister, arrogant and controlling and whose apparently tragic back-story did nothing to help me forgive his demanding and dominating personality. I didn’t understand why Araby would even consider him as a love interest, but I guess that a strong, powerful male has an appeal and her drug-induced apathy made her obediently follow any lead anyway. Even less I could understand her willing participation in his secretive schemes, the particulars of which he does not share with her. I didn’t see her being more than a useful tool to him. It annoyed me so badly that she did not stop for a second to consider the consequences of her involvement in this contrivance.

Araby quite obviously suffers from depression, substantiated by her failed attempt at suicide, and the drugs do nothing to alleviate her emotional and psychological state. I probably should cut her some slack, but her sheep-mentality enraged me. She just follows anyone’s lead and tries to justify her mindlessness as a drive to do good, to do right. I call BS!

I don’t really see why this was advertised as steampunk, because other than steam-powered carriages and elaborately corseted dresses there’s nothing much to authenticate the categorisation, but I’m no expert on the genre in any case.

Overall, the story-telling is quite well executed, but the focus is on aspects like love and guilt that might be of greater importance to the 17 year old heroine than they are to me. I would have preferred to have a bit more background on the emergence of the Weeping Sickness and the political intrigue. I guess I will have to read the sequel to find out more, but I’m not at all sure that I will be curious enough to spend my money on the next book.

The Ghost and the Goth

An entertaining afternoon by courtesy of The Ghost and the Goth.

There is the newly-dead cheerleader, Alona, who wants to know why she is still stuck on Earth and not able to move on into the light or to communicate with anyone. And then there is, very conveniently, Will, who is able to see and hear ghosts but doesn’t want to.

Alona, used to getting what she wants, coerces Will into cooperating to help her find a way out of the current state of affairs.

There are a number of aspects to this novel that are not very well executed, but they don’t really matter, because the novel’s brad and butter is the banter between the two main characters, who develop an entertaining dynamic, with Alone being a bit more fleshed out (despite being a ghost) than angsty Will. The story is told from the alternating POV of Will and Alona and I found myself looking forward to Alona’s chapters more than anything.

It’s fluffy fun if you don’t question certain premises and concepts too much. A bite-size piece of entertainment for a relaxing lazy afternoon.

The Iron King

This book had a hard time winning me over from the get-go. Once the Robbie/Puck semblance had been established, I feared that it would turn out to be a retelling of A Midsummer Night's Dream for teens. Fortunately, it didn’t. So much could have gone wrong in such an endeavour.

Puck/Robbie turned out to be my favourite character. However, Meghan’s adventures never really kept me interested, especially when she was separated from Robbie. Her choice of putting her own and her family’s well-being in the hands of someone she hardly knew and who openly proclaimed that his intentions might be detrimental to her own goals baffled me. As a heroine, she wasn’t as self-reliant as I would have liked.

I guess that I should have found satisfaction in the character development, but I didn’t. The changeling brother and the quest to free the real little brother from fairy captivity, while being an overused topic, had potential. But Meghan’s mantra-like repetition that she had to go on to save Ethan (who really was quite cute to make the reader care about his fate) smacked of pretext and I couldn’t shake the feeling that, after a while, she did this more for herself, to find out more about her roots and the possible implications for her future, than for any real concern for her brother’s well-being. After all, her “real” life’s circumstances aren’t that great and the desire to find a way, any way, to change them is quite understandable.

There isn’t much I can directly criticise. It’s not a bad book, but on turning the final page I KNEW that I wouldn’t pick up the next novel in the series. Frankly, I was bored for most of the time and it was really tough going. The prose and story telling were just not my cup of tea, I guess. Also, a somehow bland rehash of fairy lore. Everything I need to know about fairies I learned from Terry Pratchett already. There!

A Year in the Merde

I had high hopes for entertainment when I got this book, even though the colleague who lent it to me warned me that it might be a bit shallow. I like good-natured fun between European nationalities and there was, at times, just the right amount of facetiousness and snarky remarks to make me giggle, but the passages that had me roll my eyes in annoyance outweighed that by far. Our protagonist, Paul West, is such a bit too much enamoured with himself for my tastes. Yes, he does make fun of himself from time to time, but mostly in relation to his propensity to step into dog excrement, which the streets of Paris are apparently covered in, and his difficulties in ordering beverages like the locals.
Even when he was recounting his mishaps in France, I couldn’t shake the feeling that these were indeed thinly veiled snide remarks to ascertain his superiority.
A great chunk of the book is devoted to his sexual exploits. Obviously, Paul is God’s gift to womankind and Parisian women are one and all floozies in any event. Granted, strong, independent, and confident floozies, but floozies any way.

Well, it was funny to try and decipher what his weird transcriptions of the French accent were supposed to entail. I admit to having snickered a few times when the meaning finally hit home. Then again, our protagonist is an Englishman in Paris. He’s scheduled to remain there for a year, not a brief holiday stint. He doesn’t speak French, or at least not well enough to make himself understood. His failure to communicate in French is more often than not attributed to the Frenchmen’s malice. But mostly everyone is kind enough to speak English for his benefit, only to be completely ridiculed for their efforts – just because Paul cannot adjust to a little bit of French pronunciation and intonation.

All in all, I didn’t have that much fun reading about the “adventures” of an arrogant jackass whose efforts to integrate himself into a welcoming community were supercilious at best. Paul West also does not fit my image of the typical Englishman who is witty, smart, dead-pan, but not an overly sexual being in my book. :)

Rivers of London

Probably more like 3.5* but I was pleased enough to immediately order the second Peter Grant book after finishing this one.

A novel set in London – with magic and a surrounding cast of anthropomorphic entities – was bound to tickle my fancy. A story told from a male point-of view was a nice change from my recently YA-heavy reading diet, although Peter’s hopeful focus on sexual exploits tended to get on my nerves. Hang on, I’m being a bit unfair here, because that was actually something that annoyed me in the second part of the series. This one was more concerned with introducing the characters, premises, and magic system, and the solving of the crime – and it was really well done.

The tone and humour were right up my alley. The exchanges between Peter and fellow probationary Constable Leslie alone were well worth the read. It’s deadpan, but never condescending or elitist. Peter seems like an honest guy. I guess there are aspects of his character, which might show him in a less favourable light, he decides not to explore too deeply in this book, but he is not above presenting himself as the receiving end of a joke.

Deadly CoolThis 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.While I wasn’t hooked on the whole murder mystery and Hartley’s attempts at solving it, the use of very contemporary details (gadgetry, pop cultural references etc.) made up for the lack of originality in the plot. And again, Hartley is a very likeable character. No goodie-two-shoes, no Mary Sue. She’s cool, she’s bitchy, she’s deadpan, and above all believable. I couldn’t stop wondering why the police not once stopped to inquire why Hartley was found at various scenes of crime and wonder what she might have to do with the murders. After all, jealousy and the sense of betrayal are veritable motives that should have made her a number one suspect. But I guess that this would have added darker tones to an intentionally light, fluffy read.As I might have already mentioned above, it all comes down to Hartley being an endearing narrator. I have learnt to abhor first-person narrators in YA literature, because the invariably turn out to be moping, self-obsessed and self-deceiving brats (yes, I realise that I might be a little bit judgemental and holding a grudge here) and, thankfully, Hatley is the complete opposite. I just opened my copy of the book at random, saw this, and had to smile:She spun on me, eyes narrowed. “You better, Hartley Featherstone, or I’m gonna hunt you down and beat you senseless.”Scary thing? I totally believed her.“Right. Cool. No problem. Hey, you can totally count on me. Okay, well, I’m gonna just go now,” I said, slowly backing away.“I know where you live, Hartley!” she yelled after me. “This is all your fault!”Why did everyone think that stumbling on dead bodies was somehow my fault? Like I wanted to stumble on them. Like this was my idea of a good time. Trust me, between wearing braces for the entirety of my high school experience and finding one more dead body, I’d totally take the metal mouth torture. (page 185)