Lindsay

Picking up where The Book of Three leaves off, The Black Cauldron is a tale that is on a torrid pace, compared to its predecessor.

Adaon (moral ideal) and Ellidyr (morally corrupt) serve as foils to each other, with Taran somewhere in the middle, and with the potential to become one or the other, depending on the choices he makes. Or, in psychology terms, Id, Ego, Superego, though not in that order.

Adaon's brooch adds an interesting aspect to the story. SpoilerWhile I was sad that Adaon died (and died willingly, at that), it allowed Taran the opportunity to bear the brooch - the wonders of dreaming a cryptic future, as well as the responsibility and burden of owning this knowledge.

SpoilerIn contrast, Ellidyr is a miserable, selfish character, and yet, his redemption is complete when he sacrifices himself in order to destroy the cauldron... but really, who did not see that coming?

I enjoy the nonsensical banter that we get upon entering the Marshes of Morva. It adds a lighthearted dimension to an otherwise serious tale of high stakes. It is somewhat refreshing that the witches are outside of time, and are less concerned with what these mortals are so consumed by - Orwen, Orddu, and Orgoch don't have a vested interest (or at least, they don't let on that they do) in the outcome of that which happens outside their Marsh, and yet, readers get the feeling that they have the potential to be a great ally to Taran and his Companions. Perhaps, in their own way they are.

In terms of adventure and excitement within the Chronicles of Prydain, I would say that The Black Cauldron is second only to that of The High King.

This is like the junior version of “Gone Girl”. Both Logan and Delilah are a bit unhinged.

I'm not sure if it was meant to be predictable, but it was obvious from very early on that Delilah is part of the drug dealing shenanigans at Draycott.

Loose plot thread: whatever happened to the neighbour's garage camera footage? What was the point of Mendez poking around?

Sutanto gets around any potential plot holes by ending the book before any repercussions can play out, but if we (the readers) had been able to stick around a while longer, I think the whole story would have unravelled.

So, this is basically The Girl on the Train... on a boat.

There are too many throwaway red herrings that are not explained. Perhaps the most unbelievable part is that Lo and/or her colleague and ex-boyfriend, Ben, are aspiring “investigative journalists”. I don't think these two could find their way out of a paper bag (after Lo has imbibed whatever alcohol was in said bag).

Only one way to read this one: suspend your disbelief and don't think about the answers you're given.

I can't say that I feel like I know much more about Matthew Perry after reading his memoir, than I did before reading it.

The basics: He made millions of dollars doing Friends, tried to turn that success into a movie career, all while being drug-addled, feeling inadequate, and self-sabotaging his relationships.

The cycle of addiction/detox/pain management recurring throughout this memoir, along with some jumping in the timeline, made it difficult for me to keep straight what events happened and when they were taking place. The haziness may be apropos, given the stupor Perry seems to permanently exist within; the writing ebbs and flows between precision and vagueness, and never lands in a comfortable middleground for any extended amount of time. This strange cadence expresses itself in the way Perry presents certain individuals on the page. For example, names range from what feels like very formal first-and-last-name mentions (“Jamie Tarses”), to the cloak-and-daggers never-identified-in-the-book “woman I dated for six years” (Google will tell you this is most likely Lizzie Caplan); only a few people receive the typical first-name-only treatment. That, along with Perry's use of the term “geographic” (What does he mean? Who told him he could use that word in that way?) throughout, is a little jarring

Perry talks about the movie “Groundhog Day” and that's kind of what his book feels like: another chapter, another time he almost succumbed to and lost everything to his addiction. The book itself is quite dreary; there's not a whole lot of uplifting, positive experiences showcased here, which is fine (not everyone's life is golden). I guess I just thought there might be something more. 

I'm still a Matthew Perry fan; I hope he finds solace/hope/happiness; I hope his book was cathartic for him, even if it was a bit of a downer for me.

For me, the biggest takeaway from this book is the idea that households (partners) should focus more on splitting REST more equally, and let the chips (work) fall where it may. Most times, we are obsessed with making sure that we are doing equal amounts of work, and that leaves one or more people chronically tired and constantly falling further behind, becoming more irritated, and resentful. The shift to prioritizing rest, and then tackling the tasks that are most important to making our lives easier and more functional will lead to improved mindsets. I also appreciated the author's specific outlining of what counts as rest or freedom from responsibility, and what does not. Time to yourself is not necessarily rest if you are “on call”.

Another thing this book did a good job of was stating that it is okay to not do it all. Many other books in this realm try to solve the problem of not doing it all (i.e. it's okay that you don't do it all, because now you have my book; here's how to do it all), but I found this book stopped after saying it is okay. There is a very basic guide for how to improve the situation (gather trash, gather dishes, gather laundry, gather misplaced items, action the four previous steps), but the author acknowledges you may still have a mess on your hands after; and, she reiterates that it's okay.

The focus on mental health, no matter the physical state of your environment, is usually absent or a footnote in other books; it was nice to see the spotlight on it, here.

Koontz tries to do his best Stephen King imitation in Strangers, but falls short.

Whereas King weaves his supernatural elements into the very core of the book, in Strangers it feels more like a cop-out.

The first part of the book is intriguing... repressed memories, night terrors, an unknown event that links all of the main characters together.

Then Koontz loses me: A government cover-up? UFOs? Really!?

Whose idea was it to tack-on this bad-idea-of-an-ending to what was a promising beginning? What started out with so much potential fizzles quickly. As a reader, I felt cheated. I went through all of that... for aliens!?

I chose to read this book between semesters - my one leisure read for months, so needless to say, I was severely disappointed: “No, no, no... please take this book back and return it to me with a proper ending.”

This was probably the book/series that made me a huge fan of adventure and fantasy novels today; a great book from my youth, that when revisited some 15-20 years later did not have the same excitement. In this first book of Taran's adventure, I felt that the meagre 185 pages of story would have served as a mere prologue in other tales. Still, a must-read for those who can appreciate adventure/fantasy written for our younger selves.

I went into this book wanting to root for the bad guy, but ended up cheering for no one. The good, the bad, and everyone in between seemed like shadow characters, doing what they were expected to do, with no true motivation.

The gang of henches believes that being on the anti-hero's team is a more honest living, and fighting in the name of good and morality is just delusional. Even if Anna supposedly has math and spreadsheets to back up her argument, it doesn't hold up to scrutiny. She, herself, is the cause of pain, destruction, and damage, but she isn't accountable for it in her mind. 

There is a lot of telling, and not a lot of showing. Case in point, there are multiple ways in which the author creates once-removed ways of telling the story, instead of bringing us into the action (e.g. the reporter angle, the surveillance “eggs”). The author really leans into the cartoon-y evil caricatures: I mean, most of Anna's relationships are built on evil giggles.

The best way I can describe the reading experience is that the author was trying to be theatrical and over-the-top funny / scathing / witty - but I either had to (metaphorically) force my laughter, or I didn't laugh at all .

No one can make you donate a kidney... right? Apparently, that's not necessarily the case if you're 13 years old and not deemed mature enough to make your own decisions about whether or not you want to part with a bodily organ. That seems wrong to me, but I guess when it's a choice between risking and impacting your life (goodbye, contact sports) or potentially prolonging your terminally ill sister's life (if the surgery doesn't kill her), it's not so cut and dry. To separate the tangled web of conflicting best interests, a judge is appointed to determine who should have the final say over Anna's body.

This book has a pattern of not following through with consequences - The arsonist son is never caught, and eventually becomes a member of the police force. A judge rules in Anna's favour, but Anna never gets the opportunity to use her autonomy since she is declared brain dead after a car crash immediately following the verdict. - and that is the main disappointment with this book: that it does not let any of the characters take responsibility for any of the choices they make.

Like the title suggests, this is a simple book. It is refreshing in the sense that instead of telling the reader what to do, the author instead tells her own story of transitioning to a minimalist lifestyle. In fact, the book doesn't really have a strict focus, as the author talks about parenting, self-employment, hobbies, religion... Oh, the religion! It isn't stated outright in the early portions of the book, but the author is quite religious. This becomes blatantly obvious in the later chapters when there are pages upon pages about God and living to serve God. I started skimming the book at these points. Aside from that, a quick (The print is huge! 151 pages could easily have been less than 100 if it had been published in a “regular” sized font), easy read.

Alice, I Think falls victim to the hype that surrounds it... I was half-way through the novel wondering when I would get to the really funny part; then, I was three-quarters of the way through. For the record, it never came.

I spent the majority of the book shaking my head in despair and horror, asking myself, “Why?”

The funniest part of the book, is when dear Alice invites new “boyfriend” Aubrey to town... to stay... in her home... without telling her parents... after knowing him for mere minutes... because obviously that's the natural thing to do. For me, his whole visit is the highlight of the novel, but unlike Aubrey, who gets to make an early exit, the readers trudge on to witness Alice's other faux pas.

Alice is socially awkward, naive, and oblivious - a winning combination for disaster. For the duration of the novel, I am aghast at the decisions Alice makes; a lot of the time I feel sympathy for her parents (but then again, they also let her go to school in a hobbit costume - which is both admirable and a sign of things to come). As for Alice, I really wanted to shake some common sense into her. At least the Real Life Alice that I know has a sense of humour and is aware of her social ineptitude. Juby's Alice is just misunderstood and as much as I genuinely tried to love Alice, as in real life, “Alice” is someone whom I tolerate not someone whom I understand in the least.

In my opinion, the weakest book of the quintet.

Prince Rhun makes his first appearance of the series (positive), as does Glew (negative). I thought Glew was annoying, and Spoilerreally, does he play any significant role in the series? Other than being a whiny, self-indulgent nuisance? thus, the fact that much of the story revolves around Glew's unfortunate predicament means that I found this title to be a lesser counterpart to the other four books in the series.

Furthermore, I thought the pace of the story fell off from the previous books, Spoilersave the final showdown between “our companions” and Magg, Achren & Co. and this further detracted from the tale. Of course, as this is one within the series, it is a necessary piece to the overall story of Prydain, and in this regard, as the middle book, it sets up the latter half of the adventure nicely.

It is now clear to me that I prefer fiction over friction.

The premise of f(r)iction is intriguing, but I found the actual thematic content to be dry. My favourite essays were “Trickle-Down Timeline,” by Cris Mazza, “Beyond the Border of Love,” by Maryanne O'Hara, and “Interrupted Reading,” by Lance Olsen.