Rachel

I guess there are spoilers below, but I'm not sure how anything in this story could be spoiled in any way, shape, or form.

My top 7 beefs with this book:

1. The male protagonist of the story is a video game designer named Brady Finn, who is dark-haired, attractive and can get any woman he wants (so he says). This may be my own stereotypes creeping in here, but this doesn't seem realistic. I'd believe a slightly nerdy but good-looking guy being the CEO of a video game company, but this character just seems like he's been transplanted from a Fortune 500 company and put into this scenario. Maybe it wouldn't seem like that if we were shown more about his character, rather than told. (See #4)

2. It doesn't occur to Brady Finn that Aine, our heroine, can't just stay an extra few weeks in the U.S. without calling home and telling her family where she is and what she's doing. She says something like, “That's how family works” or something, and he says, “I wouldn't know.” Really, Brady Finn? A bright guy like you doesn't understand how family works because you “don't have” a family?

3. The writing of this particular Irish vernacular and speech pattern really bugs me. It's just not necessary. I get why a writer might want to write Aine's voice in that way (i.e. it might show that she's from a small village in Ireland, which might read as SUPER Irish), but it just comes off as awkward and inauthentic. It's like that time when I had a friend who made a habit of imitating my mom's Filipino accent so inaccurately and so offensively. She really thought she was pulling it off and being funny, but what she was really doing was disrespecting my mom and my culture, and pissing me off.

4. Aine loves Brady? Really? Why? He's been nothing but a mediocre dude at best, and a real big dick at worst. We have been shown nothing that makes this guy even slightly lovable, and there is no chemistry between these two at all. We get a lot of backstory and a lot of the interior life (I guess) of these characters, but we don't see much of any interaction between them. We're told things a lot, and not shown – that's a basic creative writing 101 no-no. You can't just tell us there's tension/heat/chemistry between these two – you have to show us. It's also unacceptable to have the characters tell each other that they have heat/tension/chemistry without the receipts. Watching and experiencing the development of a relationship is what makes the whole thing enjoyable.

5. PLAN B, YOU GUYS. The answer to the whole premise of this book is so easy. It's not even like they have to decide between continuing a pregnancy or having an abortion. They just need to go get Plan B. There's no reason to “not worry until there's something to worry about.” Surely, one of these two characters can get their hands on some Plan B. There's just no fucking reason to play the wait-and-see game when a white dude with money and easy access to services is involved. COME ON.

6. The last half of the book is so non-descript, I'm too tired to write about it. Of course, Brady Finn flies to Ireland, finds out Aine is pregnant, and demands that she marry him. He says all these things like, “I had a right to know about the baby,” and I made notes that said things like, “No, Brady Finn, you actually don't have a right to know about the pregnancy because, a-you're a huge dick, and b-you could have solved this whole thing by going to the store post-coitus and GETTING PLAN B, you asshole.” She resists him with the force of a kitten, and then marries him. The end.

7. Now, I know what you're saying. Maybe Aine was just okay with being single mom, and I can buy that. She certainly said something like, “Would it be so bad to be pregnant and have this baby?” I would actually have adored that scenario and decision. I would have loved for her to say, “Brady Finn, that asshole. He can go to hell. I've always wanted a child, and this is my chance. I'm having this baby!” That's not what happened here though. It seems that she continued the pregnancy mainly to keep a link between her and Brady Finn, as a symbol of the love she could never express to him (a love that grew for no reason at all, as far as I'm concerned). What's so frustrating to me is that Aine is written with no agency or decision-making abilities at all. Sure, she talks back and “has a temper,” but she isn't written with any complexity that makes any sense.

I could write more – I'm that frustrated with this book – but I don't want my review/rant to be longer than the actual book itself. This is the third Harlequin Desire book I've read, and all three have irritated me to an equal degree. These plots are meant for a longer format – let them be longer books! I'm willing to bet that the storytelling would be better.

If you liked this book, and you somehow managed to read through this entire review, that's cool. Different strokes for different folks. This one was not my bag at all.

I'm not even sure I can give this stars because it defies a starred rating system. What I do know: it's post-apocalyptic but completely and absolutely removed from the world we know. The world is strange and disorienting and unfamiliar, and we spend the entirety of this volume knowing as much as John Prophet, who wakes up at the beginning of the novel and follows a voice or urge within himself on a journey through this desolate and shit-filled landscape (literally). Everything he sees for the first time, we see for the first time as well. At least once per chapter, I found myself audibly saying, “WHAT?” or “What the hell is THAT?” or “What the hell is going ON?” I'm still not sure I know 100% of what's happening here, but I'm okay with that.

What I love about this as well is the full realization of this wholly strange and new world. The world feels ancient and futuristic at the same time, and I sense that the author has completely imagined the history of and a future for this universe. In my version of the book, there are artist sketches at the back of some of the different creatures and structures that appear throughout the book, and some have parts that are labeled. I love to observe artistic process, and it looks like some of these completely unfamiliar structures and creatures are comprised of very familiar pieces. I appreciate that the artist took such familiar things (such as Pomeranians) and transformed them into unrecognizable creations of this other world.

Even if the post-apocalypse/graphic novels/sci-fi/completely bizarre isn't for you, at least give this one a shot. It's weird, but I kind of love it.

I typically don't go for anything cult-related. Cults creep me the fuck out, but a friend of mine enthusiastically recommend this to me, and I trust her taste. The best thing about this book is the writing – poetic with flashes of brilliance and wisdom. There are so many places where I marked passages to return to. Cline's ability to create a sense of eeriness and foreboding throughout, from the first page, is masterful. Because it's based on the well-known events of the Manson family cult, we all know how the story ends, and we keep reading because we want to know how the narrator, Evie Boyd, gets from point A to point B. If you're a person who needs to be able to like or relate to the characters in order to enjoy a book, I wouldn't pick this one up. If character likability is not something that matters to you, then this is definitely worth a read. Cline writes these complex, nuanced characters who are so real and so detestable at times – and I love that. Those characters stick with me more than “likable” ones. All in all: this book didn't change my life, but it's pretty good. Worth a read.

I read this twice and loved it more after my second read. The art is simple and the story is simple. There isn't a real “climax” to the story – the main character tries to create one, but it is completely deflated.

What I really loved about this book is that it's less a story about a boy who follows a girl who is his friend to New York in an attempt to confess his love for her. It's more about a guy who's trying to love somewhere other than home. The character has never left Oakland and has all these romantic ideas about traveling across the country in a Greyhound and meeting his friend at the Empire State Building, just like in Sleepless in Seattle. He has a website, but soon learns that he's completely behind the times in terms of web design; he doesn't know how to work a cell phone. He thinks he needs a passport to fly in a plane. He chooses to send his friend a letter confessing his love to her, rather than call her or, even, email her. He lives with his mom, and his job is binding books at the public library. He lives in a world that is still very tactile and concerned with experiencing all sensations of being alive in the world. He's very much a romantic and idealist, where his friend is more of an intellectual and an academic, sarcastic and dry.

For me, “Empire State” is absolutely a love story for Oakland, for home. I'm a sucker for those. There really is no place like home, whether it's the Bay Area, New York or the desert. Read this one through twice.

What's great about this book is the voice of Lennie, the main character. When I first started reading this, I was a little off-put by Lennie's voice – it's a unique one and not entirely believable at the jump. Little by little, though, details are revealed about Lennie that begin to explain her strong voice and diction. I love that Lennie is a teenager and experiencing/expressing grief and love in these complicated and super adult(-seeming) ways. This book is full of beautifully written passages that completely swept me away into Lennie's world.

This book was fine. It was well-written, and a lot of characters were fleshed out nicely, from the town sheriff to the high school quarterback to the waitress at the diner. Rather than centering on any one relationship, The Wanderer is more of a story about an entire town and the subtle ways everyone is affected by the titular character. It's a little bit whodunit, a little bit romance, a little bit Friday Night Lights. My one complaint is the treatment of the one character of color.

loc 3472: “True,” Eve said. “Okay, tell me more about this guy.”
“Well, he's African-American. Mostly.”
“Mostly? Does that mean he's black?”
“Latte,” she said. “He's also Native American, lots of different European and Caribbean.” And then she smiled. “He's very beautiful.”

I almost threw my Kindle out the window. Calling someone “latte” is ridiculous. “Latte” as a racial identifier is not a thing. Maybe it's how white folks talk about POC and think they're being complimentary, I don't know. But this (and it happens a couple other times) almost made me put down the book entirely. Every time I think about this passage, I roll my eyes and think about chucking this thing out the window again, just to make myself feel better.

Other than that though, this book is fine to read on a rainy day.