Nikki D'Aloia

A sorrowful, poignant, character-driven novel (sometimes to a fault) that has multiple climaxes (the pun is intentional) and just as many emotional spirals. Although I did not feel as though there were moments to breathe, and I would have liked the setting to be as tasty as the characters, I found myself invested in how it would end, and it ended rather satisfyingly (and bravely). I took off a star because of the slight detachment I experienced in some parts and because for me, this will be a once-read book. But it is worth reading for the insane historical accuracy; a true historical drama at its best.

It was a highly well-done book, for a debut. Of course, there were parts where I wanted to know more, and discover better and more things, but the glamours were interestingly done ( and! the most described part of the text ) and the love interest was a twist I very honestly didn't see coming, which was a pleasant twist in and of itself. I would have liked a slightly more ... thrilling? Plot, when it came to the ultimate conflict, but since it was meant to be reminiscent of Austen and Brontë, I can forgive this. Because it was well-done in that particular style, and I enjoyed it immensely. It was also a quick read; I finished it in a day, and it swallowed me to the very end. I very much look forward to reading more by Kowal.

Not as diversity-loving, and the amount of times that Nancy and friends endured car accidents, being hit in the head with blunt objects, or being attacked by water is startling and a bit worrisome. But the novels are meant to be that sort of historically-intrinsic version of drama, which means something so outrageous and consistently “out there” has to happen at each twist and turn. Still an enjoyable ride, a pleasing palette-cleanser, when taken at face-value for what they're meant to be. A team of women, all of whom have a wide set of skills and help each other, solving cases, is also nice to read.

I first read this novel at university for a various-genres literature course. I didn't quite understand it then, although the analytic lens I acquired during the class definitely helped me understand it now, and appreciate it even better. This is the epitome, for me, of a slice-of-life novel; Steinbeck, as I wrote in the margins of one paragraph, “continues to be ingenious,” and that stands for me. The switching of different perspectives ( of different slices of life ) in-between the chapters wasn't boring, and there was nothing that rambled on that didn't come back around full circle. Each character, no matter how minor or major, had a distinct personality and a distinct purpose in the place of Cannery Row as a whole. Reading about this kind of place for me was the definition of relatable, even some near-one-hundred-odd years later. And it's because of this ability that Steinbeck has, to continue to be found and relatable, that makes me apt to give it five stars. I recommend Cannery Row for anybody who is older, and has had life happen to them, and needs to see it written down somewhere.

The adventure continues.

As spellbinding of a narrative, with more delving into character backstories. The development of a certain few has me nailed to the chair, continuing to read for more. I had to knock off a star for some of the arguments and misunderstandings, but that's a personal non-preference. The ending, without providing spoilers, is one that made me pause and tear up. I'm not sure if this is age catching up with me and making me want hopeful things, good things, things full of revelation — but I loved it. The reason doesn't matter. The star also got knocked off because, the pacing was still good, but not as much so as the first one. Regardless, I would re-read it, so, who's the real fool?

The shifting in perspectives, and the particular absence of one, was enough to pique interest all throughout. There are also certain scenes (spoilers, spoilers!) that had me rooting. Robert Jordan has this knack for spreading out the different chapters in a manner where, even if you don't necessarily like the POV that you're reading, you continue to read in order to get back to the chapters you do. And I'm not disappointed yet. I am a bit uncertain about certain character arcs, not quite sure how some (who are lagging behind) are going to catch up, but I suppose that's what the rest of the books are for.

An exceptional dive back into the fantasy realm that I didn't realise I was sorely missing. I watched the show first, and then have picked up the novels after feeling both scintillated and disappointed enough in certain parts of the show, upon recommendation from someone. (Who has been recommending them for several years, but here we are.) And I can see why.

The world-building is sublime, and somehow, easier to follow than most of the novels I've read, despite how there is so much of it all at once. Robert Jordan is a crafter at these tidbits, not ever truly succumbing to information-dumping. His characters read as real, true people. There was so much dialogue, I was a bit uncertain if it would become dried out, or redundant; but it was balanced, and the interactions were enough to whisk you away right into them. The pacing was also excellent; for me, I never felt bored. There were enough pause moments, arguments, and developments in silence, that I felt like things were slow; but there was also the endless sense of urgent danger, of the chase, of the shadow following after, that it was never a wondering of whether or not there was a point.

All in all, I'm looking forward to travelling alongside them as they continue their adventures. I'm already gleaning my favourite characters out; and despite some things perhaps being a bit “I saw that coming,” it's delivered in a method that makes me feel satisfied for guessing. There are also plenty of things that I didn't really see coming.

Despite not having the largest question answered, Tartt's prose pulled me into the inner workings of this southern-gothic narrative. The switching of perspectives provided such a rotund, complete picture that, as the story carried on, I didn't quite mind as much as before that my question wasn't being answered, and that more were being put in its place. Isn't that such the way as life, where it is disorganised and dissatisfying? Believing one thing, and perhaps that is not the truth at all, but you never know it? The lack of closure is disturbing, and I think a lot of people will be turned off by the fact that it doesn't answer “The Question,” but it's still a thrilling tale that made me give a damn about the characters and their fates.

This was definitely not my cup of tea. I looked forward to reading it considering how much it has been talked about. This has nothing to do with her prose, per se; because I really enjoyed a lot of the colourful descriptions, and I got a clear sense of the fantasy-world and what things are like. However, Ged as a main character was an absolute trifle and difficult to read about. And that latter point is exactly what I felt like I was doing: instead of becoming involved in the story, what Ged was feeling or what he was thinking, or the action taking place, I instead felt like I was reading a scribe's account. The prose was ‘telling prose,' and I quite literally felt like things were just being told to me. Even the dialogue was stiff, inserted like they do in the older Greek tales. And I'm not a fan of feeling outside the narrative. Considering the story and the magic worked, it could have only been improved and more enjoyable with 1. more time spent on some things and 2. more deep-diving into what was going on. It felt surface-level, and it was difficult getting through the last chapter. Despite this, I will be attempting to read the rest of the series, and will see how it progresses into later books.

Leaves behind a nostalgic taste in the mouth, like childhood snacks. As usual, left with wanting more. It ended right where it should have. The penultimate chapter was a bit of a rush to the finish, but the sweet sadness of the final chapter more than made up for it. Poignant, makes a person think about a life and the death that comes after it, makes a person want to value it. Regardless, would recommend for a bright, quick, intellectual read.

If being picked up as a novel to read lightly, you might as well put it back down again. And if I hadn't known what this was meant to be ( WWII propaganda, enough so that people were put to death over owning a copy ), then I probably wouldn't have thought of what to look for, nor would I have enjoyed it as much as I did. Because of this, and taking into consideration the audience it was intended for, it was a well-crafted novel, thoughtful and a punch to the gut. As a “novel” distanced from meaning ( which I don't believe in doing, but might as well add this ), it's average. It's not exactly Steinbeck's best round of prose, though it does have its moments, and I often found myself wishing that more had been done with the material presented. Of course, it wasn't possible for him to have done more, but I digress. Either way, more than likely will be giving this a re-read in the future.

An interesting scuttlebutt of a novel, unexpected from someone like Alcott, but she never compromises her style nor her morals for the sake of being non-controversial. I liked seeing this side of her, and the plotline was so sensational, it kept me gasping. Despite how annoyed I became at the fact that the protagonist could never seem to truly escape her fate, Alcott gained my forgiveness for how much this happened with the ultimate climax and ending of the novel. It made me wish for something different, and for something worse and better at the same time. I would definitely read it again, although this is one of those novels that has a tingling sensationalism the first time, and then perhaps become lacklustre with re-reading, as you already know how it ends. Don't regret adding it to my collection nonetheless and I will definitely be reading the other novels that she's written like this.

A dramatic and classic tale of Victorian literature, quite a whirlwind from start to finish despite its plodding onward in drama. The psychological aspects of it were what made it so interesting, as well as Brontë's illicit and descriptive prose, although if I had been Lockwood, I would have departed from the Grange long before I ever learnt the history of the house. At times, the dramatics are so much, I think it more of a satire of the ideals of the time period, of romance and ghostliness and hauntings and madness, and that thought endears it to me. I found myself frustrated in parts of it, although the characters do not stray very far from their “I am irredeemable” pathways. And I liked the ending the best, how it's very circular. Read for the experience, not necessarily for the plot, as it's told in abstract and detached narratives - listening to another's account alongside Lockwood, for an example. It's made of a lot of telling as opposed to doing.

Unfortunately, this one was a miss for me. I enjoyed the story, I wanted to connect so much to the characters, but that part kept losing me. I felt as though there was an imbalance of telling vs. show and always felt somewhat at a distance from everything going down. I objectively enjoyed the twists and turns and how everything ended - but it was like looking at a photograph that got left out in the sun. The picture's intention is still on the page, but the colours are blanched and the edges are blurry.

A lengthy tome of a novel. I confess I haven't read the original edition of this, but after reading the uncut and un-abridged version, I don't think I'll be able to read any other. Whilst it definitely did have moments of dragging, each section provided a perspective that was interesting and painted a full picture for me of this post-apocalyptic world. The prose remained the same quality throughout all three individual books, and I got emotional at the [ SPOILERS ] of some characters, whether they were smaller interactions or larger parts of the puzzle. The plot was cohesive. There were a lot of lines and paragraphs that alternated between waxing on a little too long for me ( stream-of-consciousness is not my thing ) and being so hard-hitting, I had to put the book down and stare off into space. Not to mention, reading this in the middle of wintertime, when a flu pandemic is running rampant, sort of makes you not want to go outside. King doing one of the things he does best: taking something real and turning it and distorting it.

I am biased when it comes to reading, enjoying, and critiquing Lewis's works, and his lettres are no different. It soothes me to read that a prolific writer shares many of my personal views, particularly on how literature must be written and how modernism is... a certain set of fractured guidelines.

Of course, some of the tidbits of advice are outdated. Women do indeed enjoy fantasy, very much so, Mr. Lewis — and may we thank the Creator for that. Regardless of those that must be taken with a grain of salt, and with the time period of his life taken into consideration as well, this collection is a well-read, mindfully arranged collection of points to think about. To mull over and to take into an arsenal to improve as a writer. He has been there, done that, and speaks on it without much ego.

An unexpected, but pleasant, find.

Like a lot of books of this nature, I gleaned a lot of good, whole nourishment from about the first five to six chapters or so. And then, that's when it should've ended. Sometimes, Biblical studies / books tend to go on for a bit longer than they need to, something I've seen across the board. If you're new in your faith journey, this is definitely a good way to be reminded that the living water will be that which quenches your thirst. It's also something that you can only say so many times, in so many different ways.

As my first Atwood novel ever pored through, I think this is an excellent choice for those wishing for an introduction to her. The prose was engaging, the timeline expansive, and the protagonist one of those that you can't help to sort of identify with, whether it's in entire spans of happenstance or just a line here or two that sheds light on the situation.

The one complaint I have is that, at first, I was a bit bewildered as to the setup of the novel. That is to say, it took me a little bit of time to grow accustomed to the fact that it happens in both flashbacks and present-day circumstances, both of which are intermingled with one another and aren't labelled with dates or other such markers. However, once one becomes more used to that factor of the setup, then it becomes a much more enjoyable read.

Overall, it's encouraged me to pick up another one of Atwood's novels in the future, which I consider to be a good sign.

A quick-paced, plot-tight read of indigenous fantasy, of which there needs to be much more of. But at the same time — it was almost too quick-paced, and too plot-tight.

The points I enjoyed:
— The character voice of Serapio. The gentleness combined with the “doomed to be a monstrosity and what is that, truly?” question was wonderful to read, whether in flashback or in present day.
— The way each chapter was woven together. It truly was an air-tight plot. It flowed seamlessly one point into the next. Everything did have a purpose, however strong or weak that purpose was in the actual narrative.
— The world. Reading about a pre-colonial world that wasn't “we're stuck in a period piece” was a breath of fresh air. You could smell and taste the rich traditions. There was no shying away from what others might deem as “harsh” or “backwards” or “grotesque.” (Leaving out details to avoid spoilers.)
— The ending. I was relieved it didn't end the way I thought it would — or rather, the way that we were led to believe that we were doomed to read, so to speak.

The points that missed for me:
— The other character voices. Although I enjoyed all of them as concepts, what they could do, and how their arcs sustained them — their voices weren't unique enough for me to grasp. If I didn't have dialogue tags every sentence, I would have no idea who was speaking because after a while, they all blended together and sounded the same. Naranpa and Xiala mirrored each other in their voices (frustrated, coming from rough backgrounds, had enough and taking action) — and Okoa was not there long enough for me to connect to, and was overshadowed by Serapio until the end. Serapio was the strongest for me.
— The air-tight plot. It read quickly. I've seen some perspectives indicating that the beginning was slow and painstaking — but I didn't find that to be the case. I found it to be the right pace; and then, the rest of it after they were established, characterisation was cast aside for the sake of the plot moving quickly. There were times where I wished the writing had lingered. On the environment, on the action outside of the POV, on the characters' emotions, just lingering in general. I felt like I would just get comfortable sitting in someone's POV, and then, we would switch or something else would happen. I felt a bit like I was underwater without a lot of air to breathe in.
— The world. Because I could taste its richness, I wanted to taste more. I got a clear picture, again, in the beginning and sometimes in the middle — but otherwise, I found the descriptions to err on the side of blandness. I'm not sure if there was a lot cut to meet word-count or page-count, but I think it was cut to a fault, if that's the case. This could have benefitted from being a fantasy of truly epic proportions — The Wheel of Time length, LOTR length. Let us have flesh.
— The writing style. Not in the sense that Ms. Roanhorse has a weak voice; she has a strong one and a commanding one. However, despite this being marketed as adult ... it read as YA to me.

It was good, and I will read the sequels in the series to come. But it left me a bit on the “...damn” side instead of the “wow!” side.

This is my third attempt reading it, and only on this attempt did I actually understand the setting and what the characters were meant to be, in relation to it. I'm pleased that I managed to finish it this time. For the most part, it was an all-right read. For me, a pro of this one in comparison to something like Wizard of Earthsea, is that there's more description about the world, including a codex and notes and what have you, and that McCaffrey's writing flows a bit better. Things keep moving, and you're actually in a lot of the action. A con for me, a major drawback, was that it wasn't clear enough? I don't know if it's that there wasn't enough detail or I just wasn't paying attention, but it was a jerky start getting into the world. Both of the main characters also suffered from a severe arrogance trip, and it could've afforded more backstory to make them more likeable. However, I will also be continuing this series, and seeing what changes as it goes along.

Steinbeck's introspective writing and innate skill at character studies are the sole reason I'm giving a star rating at all. As a novel, and as a Steinbeck novel, this hit the mark for me.

I can admit at least half of the reason is because: I wasn't willing to sit with a narrator who was ( and especially at first ) a narrow-minded, middle-aged white man. It reminded me a bit too much of a rhetoric I would prefer to avoid. Is it a real family I've met? It absolutely is, I have met this kind of family ( husband, wife, two kids, working class ) in real life, you can indeed go to your local small town and hear almost the exact same things said at any point. And I knew that this would be what the novel focused upon when picking it up.

The other half of the reason is that ... even if I wanted to relate to the narrator, it was written in such a way that I couldn't. Real life slices in novels can be the most interesting things depending on the manner in which they're written. And although this won the Nobel Prize in 1962 ( I believe it was that one? ) it would not win my personal Nobel Prize right now. There's reading about real life, and then there's trudging through it, without any emotional connection besides feeling like it's a hogwash of text.

I'm not recommending this novel as a Steinbeck character study. Grapes of Wrath, The Moon is Down, and Cannery Row were much harder hitting and didn't feel like as much of a drudge. I would say that I'd try again, but I know I won't. The title at least delivered: I read this during the winter, and it was a book that filled me with discontent.