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Denise Davidson's France After Revolution: Urban Life, Gender, and the New Social Order discusses the way in which French society came to define itself after political and social uprisings. She examines the ability of the public to help shape the social hierarchies that define them. The book also argues against the belief that women were forced out of the public in the post-Revolutionary age.

In the first part of the book, Davidson discusses political festivals as they formed after the Napoleonic period and the Bourbon Restoration. She discusses the importance of working-class women to festivals in the Napoleonic period as well as the connection between the state and the private family, and then studies the change between the Napoleonic period and the Bourbon Restoration by showcasing the different status of women within the festivals. The changes in the social sphere of France between the two time periods involved the change in perception of women for the better because of their support of and involvement with the Church. The public, in gathering for these festivals, became part of the spectacle they themselves came to observe, and women became an integral part because of their increasingly positive social appearance based on their religious involvement.

Davidson goes on to speak about the transformation of theaters into a public platform for political opposition, particularly in rural theaters where the state's oppressive presence was less pervasive. Also interesting in this section is the dichotomy between public and private space, and the ability of a space to be both public and private, depending on one's perception. The example Davidson gave was that of a woman watching a show from a theater box – to the woman, the box is a private space, having separated her from the rest of the theater. However, to the theater at large, she is still visible, thus making the space also a public space. The box gives the woman status above the theatergoers around her and yet makes her part of the crowd at large.

The construction of social hierarchies among the classes and sexes was particularly helped, Davidson states, by the general public's associational lives – group situations that were separated by class and gender to make these divisions clearer, like clubs and charities. These associational divisions gave class and gender more divisions by which to define people. These gatherings gave the classes opportunities to observe one another and create their own social hierarchies, emphasizing Davidson's point that ordinary people had the agency to create their own social trees, despite pressures from authorities such as the Church and state.

Overall, Davidson's work is a compelling argument that social settings are just as important in defining a society as the political and institutional processes that created the environment in which the society flourished, providing a thorough look at how French society perceived itself and its surroundings during the time.

Beginning with the origins of psychiatry as a field of study, this book focuses on the language and ideology behind mental health and its management as well as the inherent racism found in the example of French North Africa.

Keller asks how an advanced, sophisticated medical field, at the cutting edge of technology and science, can also be inherently racist. He puts forward the idea of “colonial dehumanization,” the tendency of psychiatrists from mainland France to treat citizens of its colonies as less than human and as test subjects, and the implications that the psychiatric field not only worked within the confines of a racist cultural definition but simultaneously perpetuated and legitimized this racial construct by encoding the psychiatric field of study with these preexisting social norms. By looking at psychiatry in a wider historical context, he attempts to come to a clear understanding of the psychological field of study.

Keller delves into the origins of psychological reform in French colonies in the 20th century, looking at the state of psychological institutions and patients in the Maghreb – Tunisia, Morocco, and Algeria. Because the system in Europe was in decline and near crisis, the colonies seemed like the perfect place to institute sweeping reforms, almost a blank slate on which to avoid the flaws of the existing system. Keller then tracks the way these new institutions worked, the studies done on patients, and the knowledge that was produced from the institutions, after which he moves on to a look at Frantz Fanon and the resistance to the institution of psychological study.

From there, Keller widens his scope to look at psychiatry in relation to France and North Africa, rounding off his study with a conclusion that looks at the move from asylums and institutional psychiatry to a chemical-based community psychiatry.

Overall, a thorough study of colonial psychiatric development and institutional racism.

This book is amazing. Steve Oney clearly looked at each and every piece of material available regarding this case, interviewed descendants of anyone he could get a hold of, and left no stone unturned. This book has a notes section the size of a novel on its own. He explores every side avenue, every political angle, every possible layer of this case. It's been a long time since I've been this enthralled by a historical work - and I'm a historian. Get this book and give it your time. You will not be disappointed.

It's a time travelling sexy Irishman romance, but with Fae! Nothing thrilling or unique about it, the author gratingly uses “female” as a noun a few times, and the sexy Irishman sometimes reads more like a sexy Scot. But it was enjoyable nonetheless.

I have a love/hate relationship with this book. One the one hand, it's an easy and engaging read. It is very easy to fall in love with Edward Cullen just as Bella does, and it is very easy to speed-read through this book only to start it all over.

But on the other hand, Bella Swan drives me insane. She has a bizarre inferiority complex when it comes to Edward, and a determined death wish. She's completely obtuse and at the same time, strangely endearing. I don't quite know how to describe it.

Stephenie Meyer's writing isn't top-notch by any means, and she often falls to repetition of descriptive phrases – Edward's “liquid topaz” eyes, anyone? – but she knows how to weave a story, and she sure as hell knows how to keep your attention. I'll be the first to admit her book just about ate my brain for a good few weeks after I finished reading.

CW for sexual assault and rape; sexual violence is a main component of the murder plot.

Stubborn budding journalist Moira gets herself mixed up in a ring of murders and Morgon Guard Kol Moonring, a sexy behemoth with wings and a protective streak a mile wide, swoops in to protect her. Literally. This was a fun read, and Kol Moonring is just the right type of unhinged paranormal hyper-protective brooding man that I, for whatever reason, cannot resist. I enjoyed it!

Ehrhard Bahr's Weimar on the Pacific examines the cultural impact that German expatriates had on Los Angeles in the 1930s and 40s, looking at the arts in particular to make the assertion that German fascism was “to a certain degree a counterrevolution against modernism, and since the manifestations of modernism were most conspicuous in the realms of literature, music, and the arts, these became important battlegrounds for the conflicting ideologies and their proponents.” In studying the exodus of creative minds from Germany and its surrounding nations before and during the second World War as well as the material they produced while in exile, Bahr adeptly argues that Los Angeles, in having a uniquely concentrated population of German exiles, developed its own German culture that stood apart from the culture in the European nation these people had once inhabited.

Particularly interesting to me was the chapter on Epic Theater versus Film Noir, describing the development of Hangmen Also Die by Bertold Brecht and Fritz Lang. Inspired by headlines describing the assassination of Reinhard Heydrich, the two men worked together to turn the story into a film, though they disregarded historical fact in order to make the story move in the way they wanted. As the movie was created, Brecht and Lang diverged greatly on how they wanted the film made and what was to be included; creative differences in which Brecht's high standards for the film were not met caused him to drift from the project. Artistic freedom and heavy editing soured Brecht to the final product, but the film continued on to be nominated for academy awards. The demand for anti-Nazi films as well as the popularity of the film noir aesthetic came together in Hangmen Also Die, and Bahr lays out the way this film was created in a fascinating light, describing not only the relationship between Brecht and Lang as it evolved during the making of the film but also their diverging opinions on where the focus of the film should lie. While Brecht had a political agenda in creating the film, Lang depended heavily on audience reaction; he was creating entertainment while Brecht wanted the film to stand also as art and statement.

Sort of accidentally stumbled into a Love Inspired set through Libby, but I'll read just about anything so here we are. Patch's writing isn't great—there were a lot of awkward sentences and places where I thought a stronger editor would have made tweaks for clarity or flow. But her trope selection skills are impeccable. Stone's a great romantic lead and Emily's trust issues stem from a genuinely trust-shattering family relationship, so it worked out. Overall enjoyable.

Merged review:

Sort of accidentally stumbled into a Love Inspired set through Libby, but I'll read just about anything so here we are. Patch's writing isn't great—there were a lot of awkward sentences and places where I thought a stronger editor would have made tweaks for clarity or flow. But her trope selection skills are impeccable. Stone's a great romantic lead and Emily's trust issues stem from a genuinely trust-shattering family relationship, so it worked out. Overall enjoyable.

I used to read King all the time, anticipating his new releases like J.K. Rowling's fans did with the Harry Potter novels. But I burned out on him right about when The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon came out. In any case, when I picked this up it had been a very long time since I'd read a Stephen King novel, and I was a bit wary going in.

I was floored. This is not just a Stephen King scary-thriller book. This is a love story. One that is particularly compelling, considering that one half of the couple is dead from the very get-go.

I laughed, I worried, I devoured these pages like a kid who just got her braces off devours bubblegum and popcorn... and when I got to the last page I burst into tears. Big, sloppy, tears. I wasn't even expecting them; they just happened. Stephen King won me back with this book, and I think that says everything that needs to be said.

Too short!

I would gladly have read more about Ozias and Lita. This book feels like it could have been paced a little slower. It goes from action to action and never really zooms in anywhere. Like it's a skeleton waiting for flesh.

Boilerplate Viking romance between a seer and a warrior. She's a deus ex machina fountain and he's territorial to the point of being called unhinged, but overall it was fine.

Fine story, terrible writing. Will not be continuing series.

This reads so powerfully like was written in the 1980s and not in a way that I would recommend.

(Edit: evidently it's a reprint of something originally released in 1986. YOU CAN TELL.)

This is just smut strung together with a thin little plot and dressed up as a Viking but, uh, if that's what you're looking for, then you're golden.

So this one's fine? Adrienne, the main character, is frustrating at times but her conflicts are rooted in the real, heart wrenching problem of her sick son and doing what is best for him despite her abusive husband.

The story contains a lot of frustrating “but maybe we can fix it” moments from Adrienne, multiple points of almost-leaving and then balking, but knowing that this is truly what happens to a lot of women trying to get out of abusive marriages, I think it's commendable the author tried to be realistic in her portrayal.

Logan is an absolute piece of shit, though. Jesus.

I have to give Dan Brown credit – he wrote a quick read.

That's all I will give him credit for.

The foreshadowing in this book is clunky at best; Dan Brown seems to think himself clever and it shows in his writing. I could feel the “nudge nudge, wink wink!” feeling every time something came up that was clearly meant to hint at things to come.

This book also has the uncanny ability to make certain types of people forget that it's fiction – Dan Brown is a wordsmith, for sure, because how else would he so easily be able to convince such a large amount of people that the tale he has haphazardly woven is fact?

Not only did I come out of this book underwhelmed; I actually felt a bit dirty after finishing it. Dan Brown's like a sleazy car salesman of modern popular fiction.

If you're going to pick up something by Dan Brown – I don't think I'd recommend it, but if you really must – pick this up and not The Da Vinci Code. Aside from BEGGING you to suspend disbelief at and around the climax of this novel, this is the better of the two European Adventures with Robert Langdon books.

These have to be the most aggressively heterosexual vampires I have ever read

So I leapt directly into this one after finishing three, which felt like a game changer... turns out that it was, but that this one made those changed games feel like appetizers for an epic game-changing main course, which is THIS one. The things Toby did in the prior books lead directly to this one, and the stakes were never higher or more personal. One really feels like McGuire has been playing a long game and it's paying off. And even after finishing this one I feel like there is so much more ahead. I cannot wait to get there.

Many people call the Silmarillion dense – they say it's too hard to read, they say it's clunky and slow-going – and it's true. But so is a lot of Lord of the Rings. Tolkien writes like a historian, in this sense, and with the attention to detail and passionate worldbuilding he put into his life's work, it's no wonder he would want to share as much of it as he possibly could, spilling out into multitudes of different volumes just to fit it all in.

I read the Silmarillion for the first time just after reading Lord of the Rings, and I devoured it. It describes the beginning, the early times in Middle-Earth, and it is absolutely fascinating. I would recommend it to anyone who wants more time in Middle-Earth.

Stunning end to an exceptionally engaging series, I devoured these like there was nothing else I had to do but sit and read, which... is not remotely true, whoopsie. But man alive I had a good time with these. Jericho Barrons might be one of my fav book boyfriends of all time.

Overall, I thought this book was well done. I'm a fan of Follett's thanks to the Pillars of the Earth and its sequels, and this does not disappoint. He's careful about historical facts and makes great effort in ensuring that actual historical figures fit naturally into his story without altering significant events.

I was particularly interested in the stories of Maude Fitzherbert and Ethel Williams. Their tales take all kinds of twists and turns and it is truly satisfying, particularly in Ethel's case, to see where they wind up.

The one gripe I have is that Ken Follett needs to get to Scarleteen and read up on virgins and hymens, because every time someone lost their virginity in this book the description of what was happening was based on horribly outdated notions of female genitalia. Someone needs a primer.

Carlo Ginzburg's The Cheese and the Worms offers the story of the miller Menocchio and an interpretation of the popular culture of the sixteenth century. Menocchio was the focus of a church inquisition because of his own views on God and faith – he was a reader and a thinker, and believed that his view of Christianity was better than that of the church. He had a unique view of the world colored by the unique way he read texts, which Ginzburg supposes is the juxtaposition of Menocchio's surrounding oral culture and the written word. Because of the abundance of documented material about Menocchio's trial, however, we have a uniquely wider view of Menocchio's life and beliefs than we do of almost any other individual of his time, and thus he gives us a valuable insight into the popular culture of the time, which of course was greatly controlled by the Church – as is evident in the ultimate silencing of Menocchio for his beliefs, which were seen as a denial of Catholicism and therefore an ultimate crime against God.

By Ginzburg's estimation, Church and religion, seen as superstitious and based outside of practical reality, hold back a civilization. There is a distinct sense in the Cheese and the Worms that pulling away from the fantastic and moving into the world of science and free thought outside of a religious construct is what it means to advance civilization.

This book is, in a word, incredible. Ian McEwan has a writing style that pulls you in with rich description and compelling plot. The book is also a good example of a story with an untrustworthy narrator.

Briony Tallis is quite possibly one of the most self-involved characters I have ever read a book about. The whole book is about her coming to terms with a horrible thing she did as a child and the consequences of her actions. She drove me insane at times, but I couldn't stop reading.

Part one is by far my favorite part. The dinner party setting, the plot is dynamic and continuous, and the developing love story between Cecilia and Robbie thoroughly captured me – which turned out to be an incredibly important part of really connecting with the rest of the book. Part two is an amazing description of war from a soldier's perspective; Robbie's description not only of what was happening around him but why he wanted to survive it all was brilliant. Part three was good as well, though my feelings for Briony probably colored my opinion of it... and part four incensed me like very few books ever have. Compelling, aggravating, and absolutely stunning work.

I would recommend this to anyone and everyone who enjoys good literature. This one I am sure will stand the test of time.

Oh this one was GOOD. Blind Michael made a really creepy villain and the stakes were so high. The plot was as tight as the characterization and the book was riveting, I couldn't put it down. Best yet.

Also, I would die for the King of Cats. I just need to state that for the record.