Mandy

Overall, this series was a lot of fun and I look forward to checking out the Arrows trilogy some time soon. I was a little confused that the first book of Arrows spoiled something that only developed in this book, the last installment of the Last Herald-Mage trilogy, but yet Arrows was published before!

This trilogy was groundbreaking at the time it was published (the late 80s to early 90s) for not only having its protagonist as homosexual, but also imagining a world where this was normalized (although homophobia isn't absent entirely, which is fine because that sounds increasingly like our current modern society as well). Although Vanyel is homosexual (or shaych, as the book calls it), his sexuality is never fetishized and there isn't any gratuitous scenes revolving around that. Whatever love, romance, and physical intimacy is pretty much on the same level as any other romance in any other book.

I was a little worried I'd be completely lost since it's been a while since I last read the first two books, but Lackey does a really good job at very slowly reintroducing the reader into the world of Valdemar. Instead of being plunged into the deep end of things, which I have almost come to take as a default way for fantasy books to go, there was something soothing and refreshing about how slowly Lackey takes to re-introduce the reader into the world. I never once felt lost or like I need to read a summary of the previous two books to get back up to speed with the book.

The world of Valdemar is extensive and this series is just one out of many that Lackey has written for the universe. It's the predecessor to something like the Cosmere books by Brandon Sanderson, where everything links to one another and there're little nods and winks in each series to other characters and events that happen in other series, so that's really fun. I'm looking forward to re-visiting the Arrows trilogy after this.

Vanyel has grown so much since the very first book, where he came across as a whiney brat imo. In this one, he's around his late 30s to early 40s and clearly has worked through so much of his pain, suffering, and grief to come through as a much wiser man, though he somehow does not come across as jaded. Stefen was a nice foil to him, although the age gap between the two was a little eyebrow-raising - I guess this may not have been that problematic at the time it was written. I know Stefen is meant to be Tylendrel's reincarnation or something so that kinda explains why he's so young, since Tylendrel only passed 17-18 years before the events of this book, and the age gap will always exist if this reincarnation thing is going to happen.

The book really escalated quickly in the last quarter. Things, even dreadful things, start happening left right center and I could barely keep up with what's going on. Spoilery thoughts: thought Van's being the victim of sexual abuse was a bit unnecessary and almost seems out of character for this book, and indeed this trilogy, which hasn't been particularly sexually violent just until then. i was so happy when it turned out that Fandes hadn't actually died earlier though. I did wonder why so many important things took place "off camera" though, like how exactly Van and Fandes defeated Leareth, and we didn't even get to see Randale and Shavri die, or how Trev and Jisa's marriage panned out!

This is a series I'd definitely recommend to any fantasy lover, but I'd also give the caveat that this needs to be read in context of the time it was published. By today's standards, the homosexuality in this book is probably mild and nothing in comparison, but I can see how impactful this would've been back in the time it was published.

Because I really love 18th to 19th century time-tested novels, contemporary historical fiction is one of those genres which I naturally and strongly gravitate towards, but I rarely enjoy what I pick up.

I'm happy to note that A Curious Beginning was one of those rare instances. I thoroughly enjoyed myself from beginning to end, and I was already busy figuring out how to get my hands on the next book before I had even finished this one.

Victoria Speedwell is a 24 year old spinster who, having just nursed and buried her two aunts, thought she was now free from any strings holding her to England. Things get nasty when her house is broken into by a burly henchman, but with the help of a mysterious German baron, she escapes unscathed. From there begins her rollercoaster adventure through Victorian London and beyond, as the baron throws her lot together with his “protege” of sorts, the faux-ruffian Stoker.

I won't pretend to say that this novel does a 100% flawless job at blending in with the 19th century backdrop. It doesn't. Victoria Speedwell is remarkably progressive and independent for a woman of her time, and she is certainly something of an anachronism. I typically don't like anachronistic characters in historical fiction, but I liked that Victoria was consistent. Unlike many novels out there, she wasn't a female character who simply flared up randomly about how downtrodden Victorian women there but then cowered at the first sign of danger or got herself captured so the hero could come in and save her. She means to have her way, and she defies anyone who stands between her and her goals, damn the consequences. And the book really means, damn the consequences.

At Stoker's introduction, I was bracing myself for your typical undermined hero, with all his rippling muscles and ruffian-like exterior hiding the soul of an aristocrat. In many ways, he does fall into all those tropes, as does Victoria into the anachronistically independent Victorian spinster stereotype. What I liked, however, was the way the tropes played off each other: to explosive fireworks and some truly hilarious conversations. Stoker has an apparently dark past and I still don't know the whole of it, since nothing much is explained by the end of this book but he doesn't sit brooding on it all the damn time as tormented heroes are wont to do. He does get up and live his life, especially when Veronica (metaphorically) slaps him out of it.

Another thing I really enjoyed is that sexual/romantic tension so masterfully built up between the two characters but never quite consummated. We're given deliciously brief brushes with that palpable connection between the two, but they don't quite fall into each other's arms and decide to commit themselves to each other by the end of the book. At the rate I have rolled my eyes and given up on so many romantic plots from historical fiction novels, you might think I've lost my romantic soul, but this book has proved that I haven't. I do enjoy reading romance, but I like to see it built up realistically, with a solid foundation as is happening here with Veronica and Stoker. Heck, I can't even be 100% sure if they end up together in the subsequent books, and it's fun to have that ambiguity hanging.They also don't display that annoyingly overdone trope of tortured forbidden love, where one or both parties pretend nothing is happening between them for some reason or other, if only to increase the angst and torment. Veronica and Stoker, I think, without actually saying it out loud, have acknowledged an attraction between themselves, but at least during the duration of the book, they were too busy with more pressing, life-and-death matters to really go into that, and I could respect that plot decision. It's a far cry from some historical fiction I've read where they had the main couple having sex in a jail cell when both were in apparently mortal danger, just because they couldn't keep it in their pants. Not Veronica and Stoker.

I'm off to start on the second book now and I'm pleased to note that the Goodreads ratings of subsequent installments of the Victoria Speedwell series are only increasing. “Excelsior!”

3.5 stars rounded up. This book was alternately beautiful but frustrating, interesting but boring, uplifting but depressing. This is my first attempt at Russian literature and it was honestly quite a struggle - and I've already heard that this is one of the easier titles to start off with! What I really liked about it is how short the chapters are.

It was so difficult to root for Anna throughout this book. From start to end, I couldn't wrap my mind around why she was even into Vronsky to begin with. I think we probably didn't see enough of her usual peaceful life with her husband before Vronsky was introduced. The first moment we see her with her husband, Anna has already been shaken by Vronsky so she's already viewing her husband in “a new light” - we don't really see how she viewed her husband before. And honestly, Karenin didn't behave shabbily throughout this book. He's probably boring and all, sure, but he wasn't abusive or negligent imo. Anna's problems with him seems like it could have been at least talked out and improved upon. Since some part of the narrative was from his perspective, we could see that a lot of the things that Anna blamed him for (coldness, only caring about his/their public image above everything) were actually misunderstandings. He really did seem to love Anna.

In contrast, I had always thought Vronsky felt shady from the beginning. The effect was probably accomplished because Tolstoy decided to introduce him as Kitty's suitor and to have his snap decision to dump Kitty and go for Anna be something that almost ruined Kitty's life (and perhaps almost killed her too). That in itself was already shady af. To be fair, he wasn't just your usual rake - he too seemed to love Anna but I felt like his was a much more self-centered love than Karenin's was. He decides to pursue Anna simply because he felt like she wanted it, without any thought for what consequences it had for her. This came to fruition in the second half of the book when indeed their elopement and affair has far, far worse repercussions for Anna than it does for Vronsky but he just - doesn't care. He only gets annoyed by how much Anna is cramping his style and inhibiting his “male independence”. In Part 4 Ch 23: “[Vronsky] simply could not understand how, at this moment of their reunion, she could think about her son, about divorce. Was it not all the same?” He clearly doesn't care about what's important to Anna, only about what he thinks should be important to her.

Levin was quite a sympathetic character throughout (not surprising that I read he's meant to be Tolstoy's stand-in). I was definitely more invested in his romance with Kitty than I was with Vronsky and Anna. Levin also seemed to be Tolstoy's vehicle for laying out all his thoughts about Russian politics and society and all these big questions about religion and beliefs. I gotta admit that some of those chapters went off in such a huge tangent that I kinda just zoned out and skimmed through. I can't believe that the novel ended not with how characters dealt with Anna's suicide, but with Levin resolving his crisis of faith - like it just felt like totally out of the blue somehow. I also really loved the chapters where Levin thinks about his baby with Kitty. Part 7 Ch 15: “... there was a new tormenting fear. [...] the fear lest this helpless being should suffer was so strong, that because of it he scarcely noticed the strange feeling of senseless joy and even pride he had experienced when the baby sneezed.” I related to this so hard as a new parent!

Overall, there were so many parts in this book that I skimmed because I was bored to tears, but also so many passages that I felt unusually seen by (mostly to do with Levin and Kitty's new family), so it's really hard for me to put a rating to this. There were points where I felt like DNFing, but also passages that really shook me with how relatable it was. I'm not sure if I'd try more of Russian lit, but I'm glad I did this one.

This was a serviceable mystery with a fairly interesting (although confusing) mechanism, and an okay solution - nothing super mind-blowing.

Luke Watchman falls down dead after being nicked on the hand by an errant dart, when another pub patron attempts to do a dart trick on him. The dart is later found to be laced with cyanide, but the packet of darts was newly opened and all the people in the private bar couldn't have done the poisoning without the others seeing them at it.

I missed Marsh's engaging storytelling, where the story plods along without much drag. There isn't much bloat or filler, which I've come to appreciate after having explored some other golden age mysteries which seem to go on forever. It doesn't hurt that we're back to a good ol' straightforward murder mystery.

But overall, this was just OK. The cast of characters were not very likeable in general. It did play some games with me in terms of who the culprit might be in the end (is it a bluff? A double bluff? A triple bluff?). The solution was satisfying enough, although not as mind-blowingly twisty as I might've hoped.

A surprisingly refreshing and unique murder mystery that kept me hooked from start to end!

In the small town of Chipping, some of its principal inhabitants are getting ready to stage an amateur play for charity. Miss Prentice, the middle-aged cousin of the local squire, successfully wrestles the part of playing the play's overture from her best frenemy Miss Campanula. Unfortunately, a swollen and inflamed finger puts a damper on things and finally forces Miss Prentice to give way to Miss Campanula last minute just before the performance. But when Miss Campanula strikes up the first three chords of her infamous Prelude and puts her foot on the soft pedal - a gun goes off from inside the piano.

In terms of the mystery, my very first initial suspicion of the culprit turned out to be correct (thanks for the training, Agatha Christie!) but that doesn't mean that the mystery was in any way predictable. Marsh did a great job leading me on a wild goose chase and I changed my suspicions around almost the entire cast of characters before the final answer was revealed.

The characters themselves were not exactly endearing, but they certainly jumped off the pages at you, especially the two main church hens of Miss Prentice and Miss Campanula. I enjoyed the characterisation of them all immensely. The only complaint I'd have is that Marsh really writes her female characters viciously. I get that this book and the character dynamics within it are a product of their times, but it was still hard to read when we barely get a single female character that we can get behind (the only one perhaps being Dinah Copeland). It also always seemed that all the women in this novel hate and plot against each other, and usually because of the way they related to men. I've read some of Marsh's other works but I don't recall if this was as prominent in them as it was here.

I love golden era cosy murder mysteries for three of its main characteristics: the interesting-ness of the puzzle/mystery, sorting out the red herrings and the actual clues, and finally finding out the answer in the end with everything wrapped up in a neat little bow. In those aspects, I think this book definitely hit the spot, hence my high rating for it. When it comes to gender relations and stereotypes, honestly very few of the books from the 20's and 30's will hold up to intense scrutiny (some better than others though), so I've learnt to turn a blind eye to that, even if it's not something I would be able to look past for a book written in the past 20 years. So if you can look past that dynamic, the mystery and character work of this book is definitely magnificent and well done.

The world and the premise in this one has so much potential, but I just felt like the pacing was a bit too slow, and I found things really draggy by the middle. It also felt like an adult's story strongly dressed up as a children's book, because it dealt with very, very heavy topics and had some pretty violent scenes involving (anthropomorphic) animals fighting each other to the death. But yet the author used the guise of a children's book so he could do expositions and info dumps that would be excusable for children's stories but inexcusable for adults. Honestly a shame because I really liked the premise and the world and want to know more about the concepts introduced in this book, but I'm still on the fence whether I want to read the rest of the series.

A thriller revolving around quantum physics sounds completely out of whack - and in a sense, this book is just that. But it was also was way more of a page-turner than I expected and an unexpectedly easy read too.

Jason Dessen leads a pretty regular life, having a standard job as a physics professor in a college and being in a pretty happy though mundane marriage and family with his wife and son. Things get upended when he is attacked and abducted one night, rendered unconscious, and wakes up in a completely different reality from the one he had known, where his wife is not his wife and his son doesn't even exist.

I was initially a little scared at how long the first chapter ran for - a whopping 80+ ebook pages - but then I realised that so much of it was actually just one-sentence paragraphs. The writing style was rather staccato in nature, but it fit perfectly in the context of this novel, keeping up the quick pace of the action without dragging it down with unnecessarily slow moments. It was also precisely this that made the book such a page-turner for me. It was impossible to put down when something new was happening every other sentence.

Though a huge part of the book revolved around quantum physics, it probably isn't going to be difficult for a layperson to understand. The book pulls upon the concepts in quantum physics of multiverses and Schrodinger's cat, although dark matter in itself didn't actually play that big a part despite the name. It probably just made a catchier book title. I enjoyed the first half of the book immensely when they were setting up this premise, which actually had a huge potential for some great cosmic horror here, what with infinite versions of your world and yourself, how would Jason ever find his way back?

The second half kinda derailed a bit for me. I thought the fact that they could "control" the box by having an idea of what kind of world they wanted to see was a bit of a convenient plot point. It also made the middle part of the book feel a bit pointless, like when he's exploring the post-apocalyptic worlds with Amanda Lucas, and why there was a brief almost-attraction with her. Why she was even there in the first place, only to literally just disappear off stage? I also actually would've liked it more if he had gotten more and more disconnected with the reality that he had been in, and then kinda decided to live some Doctor Who lifestyle with Amanda Lucas as just being outside of all the realities. At some point I felt that Jason was starting to feel disconnected with the life he once had, and I actually would've preferred if he had gone down that route too, questioning whether the life he had had was really all that worth it.I really liked and preferred that sense of hopelessness Jason had fleetingly, where trying to find his way home home was like trying to find a grain of sand on an infinite beach. That was, I thought, the most realistic scenario considering the concepts the book was based on. I might even have preferred if Jason had simply gone mad by the end, or had decided to end his life in the box knowing that he had been cast adrift. Basically, an ending to really drive home the cosmic horror of having invented and unleashed something like the box, where you could basically get lost in all of infinity, or even just contemplating the sheer infinite versions of yourself/your universe/your decisions.

All in all though, this was a reallyyy fun and quick read, which might at least set you thinking a bit more about the possibilities of quantum physics than you bargained for.

An entertaining and well written account of the fascinating Plantagenet family. With nearly 200 years of kings who are either named Henry, Edward or Richard (and sometimes John), Dan Jones did an excellent job at not only making the monarchs easily distinguishable from each other but also added enough flavour to the narrative that kept the reader going despite the length of this book, all without sacrificing chronology and historical accuracy.

3.5/5. A little on the fence on this one. It had a pretty fun quest-like adventure where our heroes from the School go on a journey towards Confection in order to put Sumi back together again, but I felt that it was a little bogged down by some didactic aspects that felt a bit too heavy-handed imo.

I think some part of my experience of this book was dampened a little by the audiobook narrator's interpretation of Rini's voice. While the narrator was pretty good for the most part, she made Rini sound rather high-pitched and whiney, and since Rini is such a central character for this story, it got really grating really fast.

There also didn't seem to be a central protagonist per se, with each character taking turns in the spotlight. I get what the intention was behind that but it also made me feel like I couldn't really root for any one of them. Cora was perhaps the closest to being a protagonist. While I also get the intention of why we had to dwell so much on her insecurities, it also felt like she was a bit too defined by that. Again, I get the intention - childhood bullying and fat-shaming can be traumatizing and it's not easy to break free from those memories - but at the same time I thought it did her character a disservice to make it seem like that was literally all she could think about, if she wasn't bemoaning her lack of friends. We see so much of Cora's fears of what she might hear her new friends say about her physique in association with the candy world of Confection around them that, ironically, it becomes all we do associate Cora with, just in the opposite direction. IMO, a single or a few mentions of this to provoke thoughts amongst readers would've been just nice to raise that awareness which I agree is important, but to continually dwell upon almost nothing else was excessive. (I almost feel a bit afraid to mention this in my review because it kinda feels like I could get cancelled for having a different opinion on how I would like representation to happen in books)

Confection sounds like a diabetic nightmare and as someone who doesn't like sweet things that much, the thought of having to swim in a soda sea almost makes me a little nauseated.

Overall, a very short and sweet (hah!) novella. I look forward to continuing the series.

This book isn't usually something I'd pick up on my own but did anyway because it was a friend's recommendation for a book club (thanks, Denise!) and wow, am I glad I did it. What an engaging, moving, and eye-opening novel. Without being too draggy or gratuitously depressing, without being too one-sided as well, this book manages to really shed light on the cultural trauma that have faced generations of African immigrants, which continues today in the systemic racism that they face - this novel focuses on America in its second half, as the author speaks from her own experience being a first-generation Ghanaian immigrant herself.

The story starts in the 1700s with two half-sisters who are oblivious to the other's existence. One is married off to a British governor, while the other is sold into slavery. We then follow generations of their descendants through the ages, as they navigate the politics of African colonial rule on one side, and the politics of being slaves or having once been slaves in America.

“No one forgets that they were once captive, even if they are now free.”

with

“Whose story am I missing? Whose voice was suppressed so that this voice could come forth?”

agency

“It'll be the white man's word against no word at all.”

2021 re-read: Just as delightful a read as it was the first time I read it 6 years ago. This book has the absurdity of Douglas Adams, the humour of Terry Pratchett, and with a healthy dose of classic literature references thrown into the mix. Fforde's writing style is always so engaging and easy, and I also love how short and sweet each chapter was. This book was just so easy to breeze through.

In an alternate universe where timey-wimey things happen (and where the Crimean War is still ongoing well into the 1980s), Thursday Next is a Special Operations exec - specifically in SO-27 as a LiteraTec (Literary Detective). In this world, having a stance on who really wrote Shakespeare's plays is as serious a business as a political leaning and could well get people arrested and charged. Thursday Next is called upon for help against her ex-lecturer-turned-master-villain, Acheron Hades, who is threatening beloved literary characters like Martin Chuzzlewit and, for his coup de grace, Jane Eyre.

The action is non-stop in this book. There's something happening in every chapter. There's some nugget and gem of literary humour on every page. Every character has at least an awesome name, such as Mycroft Next, Thursday's sometimes-genius uncle, and her eventual boss, Victor Analogy. Even the villain, believably threatening and sinister though he was, had some degree of charisma. “I'm not mad, I'm just differently moralled,” he quips.

The only perhaps downside that may not be everyone's cup of tea is that all the different threads that do come together in the end may be just a bit too overwhelming for some. Because this is a world very much like our own but with just tiny details that are different, a lot of readers unfamiliar with the whole history of the Crimean War and the Light Armoured Brigade might feel completely at sea. I'm one of this number, having barely any knowledge on the above, but I still found that I was able to keep up with whatever was happening as long as you don't think too hard about the timey-wimey stuff.

About the ending: I also get that the book was, in a way, supposed to slightly parallel Jane Eyre in how Thursday initially rejects Landen, but then stopped his wedding to Daisy Mutlar in the same style Jane Eyre's wedding to Rochester is interrupted, and then later on marries Landen herself. Bowden Cable, who is supposed to be a St. John Rivers parallel, initially proposes to Thursday and invites her to go with him to Ohio as his wife or assistant, to which she briefly considers - again, like Jane. However, I kinda found myself rooting for Bowden way more than Landen! For one, he certainly appears a lot more in the novel than Landen does, he does a lot more to actually support Thursday through the action of the novel, and I thought it was pretty shitty that, immediately after getting rejected by Thursday, Landen just goes ahead to propose to and very nearly goes ahead with getting married with Daisy Mutlar. Would he have just gone through with it if it hadn't been found out that she was actually already married?! I just can't get behind it tbh.

Overall, this is a huge recommendation for anyone who's a fan of Dickens, Jane Eyre, classic literature overall, and an absurd sense of humour.

I am fast becoming a fan of Jasper Fforde's. The world that he imagines is just as crazy, vibrant and downright addictive. This time, the action is centered around Great Expectations, with some bonus scenes from Kafka's The Trial and Jane Austen's Sense and Sensibility. Miss Havisham from Great Expectations seems like she would become a recurring character in future books, while the Red Queen and the Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland also make appearances.

The humour in this book was on-point for me, the characters were full of life and jumped out of the pages (ironic considering this book is all about jumping into books). Reading more Jasper Fforde novels are fast becoming a priority in life.

4.5/5. Wow. Just wow.

So many brilliant moments in this book. This was sometimes horror, sometimes fantasy, sometimes children's adventure, sometimes fairytale, sometimes magical realism, sometimes surrealism, sometimes allegory, but all times engaging and beautiful to read.

When he just turns seven, the unnamed narrator meets a strange girl who lives at the farmhouse at the end of the lane, Lettie Hempstock. She is slightly older than him at eleven years old, but already seems to know a lot more things than she should. A dead man turns up in a stolen and abandoned family car, and a magical adventure ensue.

Most of this book reads like a fairytale for adults. Like children's fairytales, it gives you a world want to escape to, where problems could be solved with magic, and where there is a vast unknown magical world and system that you cannot even begin to comprehend. But unlike children's fairytales, Gaiman doesn't shy away from showing you how rough the world can get even for children, so you can appreciate the nice, cosy spot you have in front of your fireplace. That nice, cosy spot, Gaiman seems to argue, is in adults retaining a child-like wonder and curiosity for the world.

“Grown-ups don't look like grown-ups on the inside either. Outside, they're big and thoughtless and they always know what they're doing. Inside, they look just like they always have. Like they did when they were your age. The truth is, there aren't any grown-ups. Not one, in the whole wide world.”

some

universe

"And did I pass?"The face of the old woman on my right as unreadable in the gathering dusk. On my left the younger woman said, "You don't pass or fail at being a person, dear."

Short but a duly impactful and iconic story. By today's standards, The Call of Cthulhu probably wouldn't be considered remotely scary - except in how dense the writing is compared to contemporary horror - but it's still such a great study in cosmic horror. I like to call it the fear of the vast unknown.

The writing style might not be for everyone but if you're able to stomach it, I strongly recommend it for just about anybody who loves fantasy, sci-fi, and the idea of being tiny and insignificant in a vast and unknowable universe.

The most merciful thing in the world, I think, is the inability of the human mind to correlate all its contents. We live on a placid island of ignorance in the midst of black seas of infinity, and it was not meant that we should voyage far. The sciences, each straining in its own direction, have hitherto harmed us little; but some day the piecing together of dissociated knowledge will open up such terrifying vistas of reality, and of our frightful position therein, that we shall either go mad from the revelation or flee from the deadly light into the peace and safety of a new dark age.

oh man oh man, where do i start? this book went from feeling a little meandering in the first half, to being just so unpleasant to read in the second. i couldn't stop thinking: this was set in 1935, written in the 1960s, but also still so relevant in 2021? :(

overall, it had very relevant things to say about the racism that pervades some segments of American society back in the 30s, probably still does in the 60s, and sadly still persists till now. it does it pretty neatly for a book written in the 60s, but i think it could've done it better now. for a book about racism, we didn't get to know any of the Black characters in it except Calpurnia, who still espoused some kind of white superiority ideas when Scout and Jem asked her why she spoke like the other Black church-goers even though she “knew better”. i wish we knew more about Tom and Helen Robinson. in the end, Tom was never cleared of his crime either and the truth about the Ewells never came out, even if Bob Ewell died.

Atticus's way of fighting the system may have seemed revolutionary back then, but right now it comes across as a little half-hearted. but perhaps the inertia of changing such widespread systemic issues can be incredibly great for an individual to overcome, especially if they are so far entrenched in it.

i'm also a little confused about this whole fixation with Boo Radley???? idk if i missed something but he seemed to be the hook of a mystery in the first half of the book, then completely forgotten about in the second half in lieu of the Tom Robinson trial, and then later pops up again right at the end but there didn't seem to be a point to all of that. the whole Boo Radley thing almost seemed like a different story to that of the Tom Robinson trial. for a character mentioned in the blurb of the book, and to have had an entire first half of the book revolving around him, it kinda fell a little flat for me. i expected him to have popped up as a pivotal last witness for Atticus in the Tom Robinson trial, or at least to have been a half-Black person forcibly kept in hiding by his family but emerges to do something heroic like save the kids from Bob Ewell. but... he wasn't? so i'm still bewildered by his purpose in the story.

i also kinda wish that the pacing and structure of the book was better. it felt a little draggy to me in the first half because it just meandered and there was nothing much about the racism it would tackle in the second half, and then the second half felt too rushed and we didn't have time to really get into the meat of things, or to investigate more about the story between the Ewells and Tom Robinson. it almost felt a bit tacked on somehow.

Maybe 3.5 stars?

This book's premise is pretty creepy but I also kinda feel like it was just that little bit shy of hitting the true creepy-spot for me. Maybe it was in finding out too much about the antagonist too quickly? Maybe it was that there was no particular enigma or mystery to find out here, so it really kinda felt like a horror-thriller but there wasn't really any kind of suspense.

I felt like the pacing of this book was a little slow too, weirdly enough because there is quite a lot of action happening. There were so many parts where I just felt like skimming or skipping ahead already - but maybe it was also because I already could tell how the plot was going to develop miles ahead and just wanted to skip through all that and just find out the ending already. I had a strong suspicion Maggie Leigh would eventually become one of Manx's victims, I knew that we'd see Manx turn on Bing at some point, and that Vic would obviously kill him, and then find a way to destroy Christmasland because Manx would've kidnapped her kid. I wasn't sure if Vic would survive the book or not, so I wasn't that surprised or impacted when she did in fact die in the end.

I kept dragging my feet coming back to this book, which is probably why I finished it so quickly because I kinda wanted to get it over and done with. There was a lot of things depressing and unpleasant about it, but I guess that's also kinda the point of a horror novel, so I don't know whether that's really a negative point in this case. At the same time, it didn't quite cross a line and become too triggering where I would've just DNFed, so I guess that's why I eventually pushed myself to finish it.

It did have some elements that were pretty thought-provoking, although I don't know how intentional this was. For example, it painted a pretty visceral picture of how frustrating it is to be in a situation that is not aligned with what the institution would like to pigeonhole you in. In this case, it's Vic having one side of the story but the institution choosing to believe another story about her and twisting all the facts to align with their side of the story, and how powerless it made her feel. This is unfortunately all too real. It reminded me of the Netflix documentary, Take Care of Maya, where the institution also forcibly removed a daughter from her mother because it made a judgement and believed the daughter to be suffering from abuse from the mother, though both daughter and mother deny this. So the bit where the police kept repeating, “Your son's well-being is paramount.” while disregarding and even risking the safety and well-being of both parents while also completely dismissing the accounts of both parents as false reminded me strongly of that documentary and how real a situation this can be in America.

Anyway, so... 3.5 stars because I did occasionally find my thoughts wandering back to Manx and Christmasland even after I had put the book down so at least there's something in that.

Unlike probably most people, this is my first foray with Isaac Asimov. While it isn't what he's best known for (science fiction), murder mysteries are completely up my alley and I'm actually really glad that this is how I got introduced to him. I thoroughly enjoyed this book and would certainly continue on to the rest of the Black Widowers series.

Tales of the Black Widowers is a collection of short stories that are technically standalone problems but feature the same group of armchair detectives (the titular Black Widowers) and their enigmatic waiter, Henry. The format of this isn't new: Asimov takes inspiration from the likes of Agatha Christie and Arthur Conan Doyle, and he acknowledges that in his preface. I'm particularly reminded of Agatha Christie's The Twelve Problems in this one. Unlike Christie, though, Asimov's problems aren't mostly about dramatic murders, adultery, and the like. There's one about a potential cheat during an examination, a leaked speech containing classified information, and just plain ol' unsolved puzzles to get through to wills and bequests.

Not all the problems are created equal, however. Some were more interesting or had smarter solutions, while others had conclusions that left me a little dissatisfied. Another shortcoming of the book was that I frequently got confused between the Black Widowers. There are 7 of them, and the only one I could really tell apart from the start was Henry, the waiter, purely by dint of his profession and the role that he usually plays in each story. Even after I was done with the book, I could really only tell apart Tom Trumbull because of his boisterousness, and maybe Rubin the writer and Halsted the mathematician. I'm still a little confused between Avalon, Gonzalo, and Drake. Asimov doesn't make things easier either, when he uses last names in the narrative, but quite often first names in dialogue (and there's a lot of that), so I'm often wondering who they're referring to when speaking to each other.

What really shines in this book, however, is just how witty Asimov is. The preface was interesting enough on its own, but Asimov also inserts afterwords after each mystery, briefly explaining its original publication title and perhaps some circumstances surrounding his inspiration for that story or when he wrote it. Man had some dry humour that I somehow wouldn't have associated with him. Makes me that much more excited to check out his more famous works now.

If you're a fan of Agatha Christie and Sherlock Holmes, check this one out. If you love murder mysteries, especially in short story form, definitely check this one out.

wow this was a heavy book, i really enjoyed most of it where it kinda dwelt on the disparity and gaps between the Southern gentility and Northern factory men. it asked a lot of questions about class hierarchy, the function of religion in the society as it was back then, and also like what constituted “breeding” at all, instead of only focusing on the upper-middle class societal politics that most novels at the time was wont to do. i kinda felt like the last 10 chapters were a little draggy though. i felt like after Margaret left Milton, the discussion and the contrast between the classes went away as well, and then we just have a series of events that first made her lonelier and then made her richer. as for the ending, i really wish there was more said of the reconciliation between Margaret and Mr Thornton, or that we had seen how she would behave with Mrs Thornton. there's so much that could have been said between them! she was once a subject of Mrs Thornton's disdain because she was a Southern gentlewoman who was too soft, i guess, and was poor, but now she's the one saving her son's entire business. and then how would her match with Mr Thornton be viewed by her aunt Shaw and her cousin Edith?? SO MUCH COULD HAVE BEEN SAID. what a wasted opportunity. but still the book did leave me happy and i really want to watch that mini-series now.

Maybe closer to 3.5 stars rounded down. This book was... whew. It was more difficult to read than Dune and that's saying a lot. I don't mind if books plunged you into the deep end from the beginning, because I do enjoy deciphering a strange new world by inference instead of being told exactly what's what. But this one really tested that to the extreme. From beginning to end I felt like I was, at best, only understanding maybe 70% of the action happening on the page. At worst, it was probably just a mere 20%.

It might be because I'm not one for military fiction, and this is space military fiction, so a lot of it went over my head. For another, Lee uses a lot of terms that mean nothing to me and also doesn't quite explain it. A lot of the unique features of his world remains shrouded in question marks. Because of this indecipherability, I almost DNFed this book. I pushed through and finished it really for only one reason: Shuos Jedao.

There aren't a whole lot of characters in this book that we spend a lot of time with besides Jedao and our other protagonist, Cheris. Jedao was by far the more interesting one. He reminded me of a space general version of Captain Jack Sparrow, where you're constantly guessing which side he's on at this moment. Even though he doesn't even have a physical body, his intelligence, charisma, and gifts of persuasion are all that he needs to get things done his way. Cheris is fine, and as far of a reader self-insert as we could possibly have. What really kept me going though, was wondering what Jedao was really up to in the grand scheme of things, and what was going to happen to him.

There's a glimmer of a really interesting storyline and world in here which was a smaller reason why I continued. There were whole chapters where I skimmed because I had no idea what was going on, but other chapters where I read thoroughly because I did get what was happening and it was engaging. That sums up my experience with this book - when I could understand it, it was amazing, but those moments are probably less than half the time I spent with the book overall.

As always, King is indeed a masterful storyteller. This is only my second book by him but I was really impressed by how intimately he could go into the psyche of a particular human topic. In this book, it's really all about the vicious cycle of intergenerational abuse and trauma. Yes, there're all the supernatural elements of this book that makes it creepy, but I think the ghosts are almost a sort of extension of the metaphor here, a way for King to explore how easily people can lose control.

I love how King drops crumbs but they all tie together into a motif that then feeds into the larger theme that he wants to explore. In this one, perhaps the most prominent one is the phrase: “Come and get your medicine.” Danny hears this as part of his visions from early in the book, but we don't know what that even means. Later, it's dropped casually and almost nonchalantly when we finally hear about the incident behind Jack's dismissal from his teaching position, where he assaults a student. He says, “If that's how you want it, just come here and take your medicine” to him before going into a trance-like rage. Even further still, we see in one of Jack's own flashbacks into his childhood, where we hear his abusive dad say the same phrase before he physically assaults his mom. So in all of this, we don't know what Danny is hearing - is he hearing his father say it in the memory about his student? Is he hearing his grandfather say it in his father's childhood memories? Or is he hearing a vision from the future where his own father would say the same to him? It all feeds into this feeling of tension and suspense that just builds and builds until the climax of the book.

Then there's also the theme mentioned about the cycle of intergenerational abuse. Jack's father was an abusive alcoholic, so Jack is now an abusive alcoholic. Jack is haunted, but more so than the ghosts of Overlook, it's this sinking feeling of being pursued by the metaphorical ghost of his father - he wants to exorcise it, but he feels himself uncontrollably falling under its influence, which i think King illustrates by having Jack also literally be falling under some kind of evil influence at the Overlook itself that makes him inexplicably act out against his wife and son. it was particularly sad when Wendy immediately attributes Danny's bruises to Jack. on one hand, we "know" that Danny apparently got attacked by the drowned ghost in Room 217 and Wendy was jumping to the wrong conclusion, but on the other hand - do we really know that though? Wouldn't it make perfect sense that Jack had lost himself again in another trance of rage and had harmed Danny, and Danny's supernatural experiences had been a child's reimagining of abuse at the hands of a beloved parent? Everything was just all so complex and multi-layered and I loved it. It's not just a simple story of humans being scared and pursued by ghosts, but that the ghosts are really manifestations (“real” or otherwise) of the spiraling traumas that haunt the humans.

I thoroughly enjoyed Jack as a character, in particular. He wasn't likeable by any means and I was annoyed and repulsed by him for most of the book, but he was incredibly complex and gray. It definitely kept me thinking about the question of culpability. We could blame Jack's childhood, his dad, his alcoholism, or an active malicious influence like the Overlook, but idk how far is a person not responsible for their actions? it's an uphill battle for sure to break free of the vicious cycle of generational abuse (physical and substance) and trauma, but does that remove or lessen culpability from Jack and the actions he has taken/will choose to take? I have a hard time saying an absolute yes to that. compassion for someone in Jack's position does not mean I should condone their actions or say they shouldn't face the consequences of them.

But ultimately, the ending still made me feel things. The bit where Danny stands up so bravely to the thing possessing Jack was just so weirdly uplifting, and then when Jack came back to his senses even just for a few moments and told Danny to run away, I almost cried. It was indescribably moving.

Overall 4.5/5. Really enjoyed this one.

4.5* rounded down. This was a thoroughly enjoyable action-packed romp through a world where all the gods and magical beings of every faith and belief system exist and are able to interact with each other. This is urban fantasy, a subgenre I typically steer away from but the humour and the world it builds just hits the sweet spot that I'm already a bit of a fan.

At the center of our story in this crazy world is Atticus O'Sullivan, an ancient Druid more than two millennia old but who retains the use of his 21 year old biological body via his magic powers. He has been spending the past two thousand years evading an ancient enemy, the Celtic god of love, Aenghus Og, who may now just be catching up to him at last. At Atticus's side but no less of a star attraction of the story is Oberon, an Irish wolfhound that is able to communicate with Atticus telepathically.

Now I'm not usually a fan of talking or sentient animals in stories (outside of children's stories and fairytales) so I was a little skeptical about Oberon at first. Hearne writes Oberon convincingly and non-cringily so now I think he's the most precious, goodest boy ever and really hope he'll stay at Atticus's side for the rest of this very long series.

Atticus himself is also written fairly convincingly. He's clearly powerful and has shored up two millennia's worth of magical knowledge and it shows. At the same time, he also has the tone of someone who's seen so much shit in the world that he's long gotten past confrontation and just wants to live life as peacefully as possible while not taking things too seriously, which is a perspective absolutely up my alley.

The world is rich in this one and we are paraded with all kinds of gods and goddesses and magical beings from various cultures and belief systems. The Celtic Tuatha de Denann take center stage in the plot and have the most participants here, but we also have a more than 800 year old Indian witch, some Icelandic vampires, and a pack of werewolves. There're also brief mentions of Thor, Christianity, and Hindu gods as well

Overall, a thoroughly enjoyable read that I'd recommend to just about anyone looking for something light hearted and easy to get through, especially if you're a fan of gods-centric fantasy and action. Or if you're a dog lover. Or better yet, both at once.

3.5/5. I'm so glad I've finally read this one, since it's been on my TBR for the longest time. Overall, I had a lot of mixed feelings about this book but overall it was a fairly enjoyable ride and I'd probably keep on reading the rest of the trilogy, although I'm not in a huge rush to continue at the moment. The characters were probably the best part of the book, the world was OK but I wasn't a fan of the way it was built in the story. This book being such an iconic cornerstone of the grimdark subgenre had me intimidated lest there was way too much gratuitous suffering and torture porn, but I was pleasantly surprised that it wasn't so bad, or maybe I've already been reading too much violent stuff. I don't really like excessive graphic violence, so I was happy for this.

I would give my usual summary of the book here but honestly it's hard to summarize, and that's one of the major issues I had with this book. There're all these threads of plot happening but you don't really quite know what it all leads towards, or what the endgame of the book is. More on that later.

We start off the book being introduced to perhaps our three main characters, Logen Nine-fingers, Sand dan Glokta, and Jezel. We switch perspectives between these three incredibly different people. I don't mind multiple perspectives and I enjoyed it in this book because each character's inner voice was so distinct and different. Logen was definitely the protagonist I could root for, while Glokta is an intriguing malcontent that is the most fascinating of the lot. I was the least interested in Jezel in the current moment, but because in many senses he's the most “unspoiled” of the three characters, I feel like he's going to have the biggest character arc in front of him, so I'd be interested to see what happens to him in the rest of the series. It's also interesting how Jezel almost seems like a “pre-Glokta” and I think Glokta doesn't like him for precisely that reason. Jezel reminds him of who he used to be in a life that no longer exists for him. It also raises the question whether Jezel is going to go through the same kind of pain and suffering that Glokta did, and how similarly or differently will he deal with it.

So, about the plot. We kinda meander along and it's almost just like following the journeys of these 3 people but without really having any inkling about what all of this is tending towards. Logen goes on to meet Bayaz, the first of the Magi, at the same time that Glokta is navigating the difficult and treacherous politics of Adua and Jezel is training for his fencing competition while also carrying on a forbidden intrigue with a respected mentor's sister. We have some vague notion that conflict is brewing on the North and South borders of the Union, but all these plot elements seemed rather scattered and disjointed, and there isn't any one big Problem overarching everything.

It was all fine enough to meander along with these plot elements, but the book only really got interesting for me after the 70% mark, when we start to learn more about the mythical figures at the beginning of the history of the Union, and some very enigmatic references to the origins of magic, which also makes one wonder whether Bayaz is going to go over to the Other Side or something, especially given what Yulwei said to him at the end. It sounds like any use of magic is essentially of a diabolical nature and therefore has to be only moderately used, but Bayaz seems to be throwing that out of the window more and more. Will he become the true villain of the series?!

I'm glad I finally read this and would like to continue on the rest of the series at some point, but I'm not in a rush.

I went in expecting something like [b:Neverwhere 14497 Neverwhere (London Below, #1) Neil Gaiman https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1348747943l/14497.SX50.jpg 16534][b:Neverwhere 14497 Neverwhere (London Below, #1) Neil Gaiman https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1348747943l/14497.SX50.jpg 16534] but instead, this book delivered something like a mix of Harry Potter, CSI, with just the slightest touch of Gaiman.Overall, this was a really fun read with a compelling lore. The book is soaked in London/English pop culture without being obnoxiously unintelligible to anyone not from London. Some references went over my head, while I managed to catch others. The plot was overall engaging and the pacing was good throughout the book - it managed to balance setting up the world and the magic system, all of which is completely new to our protagonist, while still keeping the action of the plot ongoing at a steady pace.There were some aspects of it I didn't enjoy as much, like how male-gazey it was with the main female characters, even though our protagonist Peter Grant does not overstep boundaries and respects personal space, but his thoughts, lusty as they sometimes got, got a bit annoyingly much. Leslie and Beverly, the two main female characters, definitely have their own personalities, agency, and skills, but I didn't feel like we saw enough of that or them, since the book is told from the first-person perspective of Peter.The last third of the book got really confusing to me. I had a hard time trying to keep up with all the action and information that was coming on fast and furious. I probably got enough of a gist to vaguely understand how the story wrapped up, but if I had to explain it in detail to someone, I'd probably still be lost. I did enjoy the world, the magic system, and the lore that Aaronovitch set up though, and would still continue on the series at some point for that. I've heard that he gets better in his treatment of female characters as the series goes on, so there's that to look forward to as well.