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Acanthea Grimscythe (300 KP) rated Creature in Books
Jan 18, 2019
Creature by Hunter Shea may begin slowly, but it quickly coalesces into a heartrending, terrifying bid for survival against a monster far deadlier than those I’ve read in other books. Shea weaves a masterful tale that is nothing short of stark reality: and for that, I am grateful in the saddest of ways. For some readers, Creature will hit close to home, and for others it will be an eye-opening experience.
Kate Woodson suffers from several auto-immune diseases that leave her crippled and unable to take care of herself. Fortunately, she has a supportive and loving husband, Andrew, that takes care of her, and a loving pup named Buttons. In a desperate attempt to make her feel better, Andrew takes her on a trip to a secluded cottage in Maine, but that is where things quickly turn horrifying for something lurks in the shadows.
Creature is not action-packed. At least, not early on. The first chunk of the novel focuses on Kate and Andrew’s relationship, and while that might sound dull and boring, in this instance it’s anything but that. In fact, I found it heartwarming and entirely necessary. It allows readers to truly get a grasp on the disastrous effects of auto-immune diseases–not only on the afflicted, but on their loved ones as well. The time Shea spends on these two also allows for an astronomical amount of character development: I became attached to Kate and Andrew, to their love for one another, to their hardships.
I also found myself relating to Kate more than I expected, which is where Shea really hooked me in as a reader–those that have followed The Ghastly Grimoire for any amount of time know that I suffer from two auto-immune diseases myself. This is actually the first book where I read the afterword, and there I learned that his accurate portrayal has a source: his wife.
When the book does pick up, it’s fast-paced and edge-of your seat action. As in, I read the final 110 pages in one sitting because I couldn’t put the book down. I’d love to go into detail about the symbolism threaded throughout the latter half of the book, but that, unfortunately, would also be a major spoiler. I can say this, however: Shea managed to make me gag in revulsion and cry.
That said, Creature is a wonderful, enlightening read. It’s rare that a book draws deep emotions from me, and even more so that a horror book truly gets under my skin. Shea did both of these things, and I definitely look forward to reading more of his work.
This book was given to me by the publisher in exchange for an honest review.
Kate Woodson suffers from several auto-immune diseases that leave her crippled and unable to take care of herself. Fortunately, she has a supportive and loving husband, Andrew, that takes care of her, and a loving pup named Buttons. In a desperate attempt to make her feel better, Andrew takes her on a trip to a secluded cottage in Maine, but that is where things quickly turn horrifying for something lurks in the shadows.
Creature is not action-packed. At least, not early on. The first chunk of the novel focuses on Kate and Andrew’s relationship, and while that might sound dull and boring, in this instance it’s anything but that. In fact, I found it heartwarming and entirely necessary. It allows readers to truly get a grasp on the disastrous effects of auto-immune diseases–not only on the afflicted, but on their loved ones as well. The time Shea spends on these two also allows for an astronomical amount of character development: I became attached to Kate and Andrew, to their love for one another, to their hardships.
I also found myself relating to Kate more than I expected, which is where Shea really hooked me in as a reader–those that have followed The Ghastly Grimoire for any amount of time know that I suffer from two auto-immune diseases myself. This is actually the first book where I read the afterword, and there I learned that his accurate portrayal has a source: his wife.
When the book does pick up, it’s fast-paced and edge-of your seat action. As in, I read the final 110 pages in one sitting because I couldn’t put the book down. I’d love to go into detail about the symbolism threaded throughout the latter half of the book, but that, unfortunately, would also be a major spoiler. I can say this, however: Shea managed to make me gag in revulsion and cry.
That said, Creature is a wonderful, enlightening read. It’s rare that a book draws deep emotions from me, and even more so that a horror book truly gets under my skin. Shea did both of these things, and I definitely look forward to reading more of his work.
This book was given to me by the publisher in exchange for an honest review.
Kristy H (1252 KP) rated Musical Chairs in Books
Sep 17, 2020
A charming and delightful look at family and friendship
Bridget and Will are the best of friends--and nothing more--despite what everyone thinks. For over thirty years, they've been the two long-standing members of the Forsyth Trio. The third founding member, Gavin, went on to great success and stardom, leaving Bridget and Will to fill the position with a rotating crew of musicians. Before starting up the trio again, Bridget plans on spending the summer at her country house in Connecticut near her father, the famous musician Edward Stratton. But things go awry quickly. Her boyfriend breaks it off with her; her twenty-something twins surprise her by returning to the house for the summer, bringing their chaos with them; and the older Edward announces he's getting married. Will and Bridget decide to relaunch the Forsyth Trio at the wedding, but it all hinges on getting Gavin to return--someone they've both been avoiding for quite some time.
This is a charming and funny story. If it sounds all over the place, it's only because it's a reflection on Bridget's life, which is a total mess at the beginning of our tale. Each character in Poeppel's heartfelt tome is wonderful: real and true, standing out on the page as their own person. I fell easily for poor Bridget, hapless Will, the twins, and our host of side characters, ranging from Bridget's very New York-ish sister to Gwen to uppity Edward and his assistant to the local Connecticut townfolk who swarm to try to keep Bridget--and her cottage--from falling apart.
There's a lot of focus on music here--with Bridget, Will, and Edward all musicians, and it makes for a different and lovely book. While plenty of serious things happen, overall this is a sweet and funny story. I found myself smiling and laughing often while reading. There are some downright laugh out loud scenes. Bridget's inability to master technology, coupled with the helplessness of her twins, allow for some wonderful moments. But what really shines through is how much everyone here loves each other--Bridget and her kids, the whole Stratton family, and Will, who is truly part of the clan. How nice to read a book where, even if everyone might fight a day, their compassion and caring for each other shines through.
And, of course, I have a soft spot for any book featuring twins, so I enjoyed a prominent storyline featuring them.
Overall, this is delightful book that offered a wonderful distraction to the woes of the world. It's a funny and kind look at family and friendship, and it simply made me happy. 4+ stars.
This is a charming and funny story. If it sounds all over the place, it's only because it's a reflection on Bridget's life, which is a total mess at the beginning of our tale. Each character in Poeppel's heartfelt tome is wonderful: real and true, standing out on the page as their own person. I fell easily for poor Bridget, hapless Will, the twins, and our host of side characters, ranging from Bridget's very New York-ish sister to Gwen to uppity Edward and his assistant to the local Connecticut townfolk who swarm to try to keep Bridget--and her cottage--from falling apart.
There's a lot of focus on music here--with Bridget, Will, and Edward all musicians, and it makes for a different and lovely book. While plenty of serious things happen, overall this is a sweet and funny story. I found myself smiling and laughing often while reading. There are some downright laugh out loud scenes. Bridget's inability to master technology, coupled with the helplessness of her twins, allow for some wonderful moments. But what really shines through is how much everyone here loves each other--Bridget and her kids, the whole Stratton family, and Will, who is truly part of the clan. How nice to read a book where, even if everyone might fight a day, their compassion and caring for each other shines through.
And, of course, I have a soft spot for any book featuring twins, so I enjoyed a prominent storyline featuring them.
Overall, this is delightful book that offered a wonderful distraction to the woes of the world. It's a funny and kind look at family and friendship, and it simply made me happy. 4+ stars.
TO
The Oxford Companion to Cheese
Mateo Kehler and Catherine Donnelly
Book
The discovery of cheese is a narrative at least 8,000 years old, dating back to the Neolithic era....
Kristy H (1252 KP) rated The Widow's House in Books
Dec 24, 2017
crazy (1 more)
fascinating
Jess and Clare Martin met at Bailey College, in the Hudson River valley, but have been living in New York for years. Jess wrote a successful first novel not long after graduation, but that money has long been spent. He's been working on his second book for ages; it's long overdue, and he needs a new muse. So the two decide to move back to the Hudson River area, where Jess can focus on the book without distractions. They take on duties as caretakers at Riven House, the home of their former college professor, Monty. They can live in a nearby cottage in exchange for helping the elderly Monty with chores. But the setup has its own issues: it's Monty, after all, who wrote a review of Jess' first book that torments him to this day. And as they settle in, Clare begins to hear a baby crying at night and see shadowy figures around the pond of Monty's property. As she investigates local history, she thinks what she sees may be tied to the house's tormented past. The locals say the place is haunted and destroys everyone who stays there. Are Clare and Jess next?
You know how sometimes you start a novel and immediately know, from the first page, that you'll enjoy it? THE WIDOW'S HOUSE was that way for me. It sucked me in immediately and kept me interested throughout; I read it in about 24 hours. The book is filled with complicated characters, starting with Clare. You start to realize she's the ultimate unreliable narrator, but are never able to tell exactly how much. She appears unhappy with her selfish author husband and her marriage. She had a rough childhood--growing up in the Hudson Valley not far from Monty's estate, which has clearly affected the way she sees the world. The entire story is told from her point of view, and we're stuck with all events being filtered through her lens. It's genius really, and it is a refreshing change from so many novels lately that change narrators and time periods. You find yourself working and guessing with Clare as she unravels local history and the events unfolding at Riven House.
The novel is certainly told in the Gothic tradition. I first fell for Goodman via her excellent novel, The Lake of Dead Languages, and this book reminded me of that one in some ways. Unlike some Gothic novels, you do not have to suspend much disbelief as the creepy events unfold around Clare and Jess. There are parts of this book that are incredibly spooky, and it's quite well-done. I loved that I was frantically flipping the pages, constantly second guessing everything and wondering what was happening. There are some great twists that shock you, even as you're still trying to figure things out in you're head (much like Clare). This novel will leave you guessing. It's crazy and confusing, but fascinating and incredibly hard to put down. It's completely enjoyable and stays with you after you've finished it, going over various plot points. Highly recommend.
You know how sometimes you start a novel and immediately know, from the first page, that you'll enjoy it? THE WIDOW'S HOUSE was that way for me. It sucked me in immediately and kept me interested throughout; I read it in about 24 hours. The book is filled with complicated characters, starting with Clare. You start to realize she's the ultimate unreliable narrator, but are never able to tell exactly how much. She appears unhappy with her selfish author husband and her marriage. She had a rough childhood--growing up in the Hudson Valley not far from Monty's estate, which has clearly affected the way she sees the world. The entire story is told from her point of view, and we're stuck with all events being filtered through her lens. It's genius really, and it is a refreshing change from so many novels lately that change narrators and time periods. You find yourself working and guessing with Clare as she unravels local history and the events unfolding at Riven House.
The novel is certainly told in the Gothic tradition. I first fell for Goodman via her excellent novel, The Lake of Dead Languages, and this book reminded me of that one in some ways. Unlike some Gothic novels, you do not have to suspend much disbelief as the creepy events unfold around Clare and Jess. There are parts of this book that are incredibly spooky, and it's quite well-done. I loved that I was frantically flipping the pages, constantly second guessing everything and wondering what was happening. There are some great twists that shock you, even as you're still trying to figure things out in you're head (much like Clare). This novel will leave you guessing. It's crazy and confusing, but fascinating and incredibly hard to put down. It's completely enjoyable and stays with you after you've finished it, going over various plot points. Highly recommend.
Hazel (1853 KP) rated How Not to Fall in Love, Actually: A Laugh-Out-Loud Romantic Comedy in Books
Dec 7, 2018
<i>I received this book for free through Goodreads First Reads.</i>
“Life, as any chancer knows, is 10% planning, 10% design and 80% totally winging it …” and Catherine Bennetto’s debut novel <i>How Not to Fall in Love, Actually</i> provides a perfect example. The protagonist, Emma George, does not have the most stable of lives: a job she is not that great at, a disappointing boyfriend, and not much hope for the future. Clinging on to dreams of working in the film industry in New York, Emma plods on in her frustrating London job, however, things are due to get a lot worse.
A quick succession of events leaves Emma boyfriend-less, homeless, penniless, grandmother-less, and, to top it off, pregnant. Although letting off a woe-is-me aura, Emma does not realise how fortunate she is. A series of serendipitous incidents, a fashion-obsessed mother, and a sister on the other side of the world make Emma’s life more bearable. Moving into her late grandmother’s Wimbledon cottage and acquiring a handsome lodger, with a loving family just around the corner, Emma’s life has the potential to be happier than it has ever been before – if only she could see that.
<i>How Not to Fall in Love, Actually</i> (a title presumably inspired by the film Love Actually) is a typical British romantic comedy that provides light-hearted relief with its jovial narrative. Full of eccentric characters – a foul-mouthed four-year-old, a felony-obsessed octogenarian, and a harried mother of four – this novel is certain to entertain, although whether it deserves the “laugh-out-loud” status it promises is questionable (but then I am more of a laugh-inside type of reader).
One of the best things about this book – and many British chick-lit – is the authenticity of the characters and settings. Although a few of the scenarios may be toward the extreme end of the scale, none of the occurrences are too far-fetched, and all the characters are relatable in some way, despite their idiosyncrasies.
Personally, I tend to avoid chick-lit, finding them rather lowbrow and written for the sake of writing. Books that have love or sexual encounters as their key theme are not something I enjoy. Therefore, I was pleasantly surprised when <i>How Not to Fall in Love, Actually</i> exceeded these rather low expectations. Admittedly, there are one too many sexual references and far too much swearing, particularly from a four-year-old character – although that does add to the overall humour - but the general storyline was enjoyable. Despite the title hinting at a love-focused story, there were so many other elements to the plot, resulting in a much more interesting novel.
<i>How Not to Fall in Love, Actually</i> is obviously targeted at women, but can be enjoyed by adults of all ages. Those in their twenties and thirties may be able to relate to the struggles Emma is dealing with, whereas older generations may be able to reminisce about their past dilemmas. Whatever the reader’s situation, this book brings laughter, relaxation and the realisation that life is not so bad.
“Life, as any chancer knows, is 10% planning, 10% design and 80% totally winging it …” and Catherine Bennetto’s debut novel <i>How Not to Fall in Love, Actually</i> provides a perfect example. The protagonist, Emma George, does not have the most stable of lives: a job she is not that great at, a disappointing boyfriend, and not much hope for the future. Clinging on to dreams of working in the film industry in New York, Emma plods on in her frustrating London job, however, things are due to get a lot worse.
A quick succession of events leaves Emma boyfriend-less, homeless, penniless, grandmother-less, and, to top it off, pregnant. Although letting off a woe-is-me aura, Emma does not realise how fortunate she is. A series of serendipitous incidents, a fashion-obsessed mother, and a sister on the other side of the world make Emma’s life more bearable. Moving into her late grandmother’s Wimbledon cottage and acquiring a handsome lodger, with a loving family just around the corner, Emma’s life has the potential to be happier than it has ever been before – if only she could see that.
<i>How Not to Fall in Love, Actually</i> (a title presumably inspired by the film Love Actually) is a typical British romantic comedy that provides light-hearted relief with its jovial narrative. Full of eccentric characters – a foul-mouthed four-year-old, a felony-obsessed octogenarian, and a harried mother of four – this novel is certain to entertain, although whether it deserves the “laugh-out-loud” status it promises is questionable (but then I am more of a laugh-inside type of reader).
One of the best things about this book – and many British chick-lit – is the authenticity of the characters and settings. Although a few of the scenarios may be toward the extreme end of the scale, none of the occurrences are too far-fetched, and all the characters are relatable in some way, despite their idiosyncrasies.
Personally, I tend to avoid chick-lit, finding them rather lowbrow and written for the sake of writing. Books that have love or sexual encounters as their key theme are not something I enjoy. Therefore, I was pleasantly surprised when <i>How Not to Fall in Love, Actually</i> exceeded these rather low expectations. Admittedly, there are one too many sexual references and far too much swearing, particularly from a four-year-old character – although that does add to the overall humour - but the general storyline was enjoyable. Despite the title hinting at a love-focused story, there were so many other elements to the plot, resulting in a much more interesting novel.
<i>How Not to Fall in Love, Actually</i> is obviously targeted at women, but can be enjoyed by adults of all ages. Those in their twenties and thirties may be able to relate to the struggles Emma is dealing with, whereas older generations may be able to reminisce about their past dilemmas. Whatever the reader’s situation, this book brings laughter, relaxation and the realisation that life is not so bad.
Daniel Boyd (1066 KP) rated Gerald's Game (2017) in Movies
Oct 13, 2017 (Updated Oct 13, 2017)
Top Notch Performances. (1 more)
Effective Scares.
Hard To Watch, Yet Impossible To Turn Away
Contains spoilers, click to show
After being underwhelmed by the major blockbuster release of IT, I didn’t have much hope for this small Netflix movie with a limited cast, a low budget and being an adaption of what is regarded as one of Stephen King’s lesser works. I am happy to report that I was pleasantly surprised when I sat down to watch this one, in fact I’d go as far as to say it blew me away.
This is a movie that lives and dies on the performances of the actors involved. For those of you not familiar with the story’s premise, it involves a married couple driving out to a holiday cottage in the woods for a dirty weekend. The couple is played by Carla Gugino, (Jessie,) and Bruce Greenwood, (Gerald,) who both totally nail their respective roles in the movie. Once they get to the cottage and the door is conveniently left ajar, Gerald handcuffs Jessie to the bed and goes to the bathroom to pop a Viagra. Once he comes back and explains how he has made sure the gardeners and the cleaners won’t disturb them for a few days, he takes a heart attack and collapses onto the floor and dies.
From this point on, Carla Gugino spends the vast majority of the movie handcuffed to the bed and she gives an absolutely stellar performance, possibly the best of her career. She goes though a vast array of emotions in convincing, believable form and shows everything, from despair, to sadness, to anger, to fear, to resilience. I don’t think anyone has ever been Oscar nominated for a straight-to-Netflix movie, but if there is one performance that deserves to be, it is this one.
If you haven’t seen the movie yet, please don’t read on past this point as I am going to have to delve into spoilers in order to discuss the other aspects of the movie that I enjoyed. I thought the way that Gerald appeared to Jessie as a sort of devil on her shoulder was really effective and Greenwood delivered the required level of intense cruelty perfectly. Then the fact that Jessie appeared to herself as a sort of angel on the shoulder to oppose Gerald’s negative thoughts, meant that Gugino was required to deliver a dual character performance, on top of the already challenging role of being chained to the bed.
Flashback sequences in movies can go either way for me. They usually either tend to detract from the story at hand and become an unnecessary tangent, or they compliment what is going on and add to the movie overall. Thankfully in this movie, it is the latter. The flashback scenes are uncomfortable and hard to watch, but they do add context to what is going on in the character’s mind and make for a more interesting dissection of the effect that child abuse can have on a person in later life and how psychologically, even as adults people are still affected by the dreadful things that occurred in their past.
I also thought that this film was extremely effective in terms of its fear factor. As opposed to IT, which was scary at the start, but became repetitive and managed to desensitise its audience for what to expect by the halfway mark, Gerald’s game retains an unpredictable level of uneasiness throughout.
As far as the viewer knows during the first half of the movie, the main conflict facing the protagonist is starvation and the dog that is gnawing on Gerald’s dead body, but then things take a much more sinister turn. In what is possibly the creepiest scene I have seen in a movie this year, Jessie wakes up during the night after passing out for a few hours and she looks into the corner of the room, squinting her eyes. The camera follows where she is looking and the general shape of something can be made out. Then the shape begins to move forwards into the moonlight and is revealed to be a huge, deformed man holding a trinket box. This was so unexpected and freaky, and I loved it. I thought it was so effective in the context of the movie and was executed perfectly to be as disturbing as possible. It is also a relatable scare, as we have all experienced that moment; glancing at the corner of the room, something catches our eye and looks off in the darkness, but you just brush it off and fall back asleep. Jessie’s worst fears are confirmed here though, as she really did see something in the corner of the room and she is helpless to get away from it.
It also throws a twist into a story that has so far been based in what could be a real situation. You start to wonder, is Jessie experiencing something supernatural, or is she just hallucinating due to lack of food and water? Then the Gerald hallucination asks her if ‘The Moonlight Man,’ that she saw isn’t real, then why did the dog run away when he was in the room? Just like Jessie, the audience starts to wonder if he could be real, perhaps he is death and he has come to take Jessie to hell. All of these questions add to the already intense and disturbing tone of the movie and I thought it worked perfectly.
Eventually the movie wraps up with Jessie having an epiphany that if she smashes the glass of water and cuts her wrist, the blood can help her slip her hand out of the cuffs. What follows is a gory, brutal, difficult to watch de-gloving scene that will have you wincing and watching through your fingers. Then in true Stephen King fashion, the movie goes on to reveal another twist. It is revealed that ‘The Moonlight Man,’ really was in the room with Jessie. He was a serial killer that collected various body parts form dead people and he was taking parts from Gerald’s body while Jessie was chained to the bed. I can see why this ending could be polarizing for some, but I loved it and I thought it added an extra layer of craziness to the already insane sequence of events that we just witnessed.
Overall, Gerald’s Game is fantastic. A truly unsettling, chilling Stephen King adaption that showcases fantastic performances from its cast, makes the most of its minimal setting and managed to creep me out way more than any other horror movie I have seen this year.
This is a movie that lives and dies on the performances of the actors involved. For those of you not familiar with the story’s premise, it involves a married couple driving out to a holiday cottage in the woods for a dirty weekend. The couple is played by Carla Gugino, (Jessie,) and Bruce Greenwood, (Gerald,) who both totally nail their respective roles in the movie. Once they get to the cottage and the door is conveniently left ajar, Gerald handcuffs Jessie to the bed and goes to the bathroom to pop a Viagra. Once he comes back and explains how he has made sure the gardeners and the cleaners won’t disturb them for a few days, he takes a heart attack and collapses onto the floor and dies.
From this point on, Carla Gugino spends the vast majority of the movie handcuffed to the bed and she gives an absolutely stellar performance, possibly the best of her career. She goes though a vast array of emotions in convincing, believable form and shows everything, from despair, to sadness, to anger, to fear, to resilience. I don’t think anyone has ever been Oscar nominated for a straight-to-Netflix movie, but if there is one performance that deserves to be, it is this one.
If you haven’t seen the movie yet, please don’t read on past this point as I am going to have to delve into spoilers in order to discuss the other aspects of the movie that I enjoyed. I thought the way that Gerald appeared to Jessie as a sort of devil on her shoulder was really effective and Greenwood delivered the required level of intense cruelty perfectly. Then the fact that Jessie appeared to herself as a sort of angel on the shoulder to oppose Gerald’s negative thoughts, meant that Gugino was required to deliver a dual character performance, on top of the already challenging role of being chained to the bed.
Flashback sequences in movies can go either way for me. They usually either tend to detract from the story at hand and become an unnecessary tangent, or they compliment what is going on and add to the movie overall. Thankfully in this movie, it is the latter. The flashback scenes are uncomfortable and hard to watch, but they do add context to what is going on in the character’s mind and make for a more interesting dissection of the effect that child abuse can have on a person in later life and how psychologically, even as adults people are still affected by the dreadful things that occurred in their past.
I also thought that this film was extremely effective in terms of its fear factor. As opposed to IT, which was scary at the start, but became repetitive and managed to desensitise its audience for what to expect by the halfway mark, Gerald’s game retains an unpredictable level of uneasiness throughout.
As far as the viewer knows during the first half of the movie, the main conflict facing the protagonist is starvation and the dog that is gnawing on Gerald’s dead body, but then things take a much more sinister turn. In what is possibly the creepiest scene I have seen in a movie this year, Jessie wakes up during the night after passing out for a few hours and she looks into the corner of the room, squinting her eyes. The camera follows where she is looking and the general shape of something can be made out. Then the shape begins to move forwards into the moonlight and is revealed to be a huge, deformed man holding a trinket box. This was so unexpected and freaky, and I loved it. I thought it was so effective in the context of the movie and was executed perfectly to be as disturbing as possible. It is also a relatable scare, as we have all experienced that moment; glancing at the corner of the room, something catches our eye and looks off in the darkness, but you just brush it off and fall back asleep. Jessie’s worst fears are confirmed here though, as she really did see something in the corner of the room and she is helpless to get away from it.
It also throws a twist into a story that has so far been based in what could be a real situation. You start to wonder, is Jessie experiencing something supernatural, or is she just hallucinating due to lack of food and water? Then the Gerald hallucination asks her if ‘The Moonlight Man,’ that she saw isn’t real, then why did the dog run away when he was in the room? Just like Jessie, the audience starts to wonder if he could be real, perhaps he is death and he has come to take Jessie to hell. All of these questions add to the already intense and disturbing tone of the movie and I thought it worked perfectly.
Eventually the movie wraps up with Jessie having an epiphany that if she smashes the glass of water and cuts her wrist, the blood can help her slip her hand out of the cuffs. What follows is a gory, brutal, difficult to watch de-gloving scene that will have you wincing and watching through your fingers. Then in true Stephen King fashion, the movie goes on to reveal another twist. It is revealed that ‘The Moonlight Man,’ really was in the room with Jessie. He was a serial killer that collected various body parts form dead people and he was taking parts from Gerald’s body while Jessie was chained to the bed. I can see why this ending could be polarizing for some, but I loved it and I thought it added an extra layer of craziness to the already insane sequence of events that we just witnessed.
Overall, Gerald’s Game is fantastic. A truly unsettling, chilling Stephen King adaption that showcases fantastic performances from its cast, makes the most of its minimal setting and managed to creep me out way more than any other horror movie I have seen this year.
Eilidh G Clark (177 KP) rated A Portable Shelter in Books
May 13, 2017
‘…there’s no other way to give you the truth except to hide it in a story and let you find your own way inside.’
‘…there’s no other way to give you the truth except to hide it in a story and let you find your own way inside.’
Kirsty Logan’s first collection of short stories, The Rental Heart and Other Fairytales, published by Salt in 2014, won the Polari First Book Prize in 2015. A Portable Shelter is her second collection. Set in a small cottage in the rural north coast of Scotland, Ruth and Liska are expecting their first child. The couple believe that their unborn baby will have a better chance of survival away from the harshness of suburban life. They make a pact with one another, that they will only ever tell their child the truth. Yet while Liska is asleep or Ruth is at work, each whispers secret stories to their unborn child. Delving into fantastical tales about people from their past and re-telling stories that span from generation to generation, the couple unfold the horrors of the real world. Whilst these tales, laced in myth and legend, and fattened with the magic of the imagination, demonstrate the art of oral storytelling, Logan reaches further to show the reader why storytelling is important.
While this book is primarily a collection of short stories, its novel like structure frames each story with a preceding monologue from either Ruth or Liska. The monologues offer delightful morsels of description that bring the harshness of Mother Nature into the safety of the couple’s bedroom, “right now our home is speaking to you. The walls creak their approval in the wind. The rain applauds on the roof. The lighthouse beam swoops, swoops, swoops. The tide breathes loud and slow like a giant. If you listen carefully, perhaps you can even hear the moon hum.” The pace of these sentences, combined with the delicacy of language demonstrates Logan’s skill at describing the sublime spirit of the natural world, which brings the narrative to life.
Most impressive though, is Logan’s poetic language and carefully crafted sentences which create the most beautiful imagery. In ‘Flinch,’ for example – James is a fisherman struggling with his identity, yet his affiliation with the land is locked into his first-person point of view where the reader gets to closely experience what he sees, “The sky is pinkish-grey like the insides of shells. Speckled bonxies wheel overhead. Seals loll on the rocks, fat as kings. The rising mist is cool and milky.” Any of these lines could easily be arranged into a poem and with sentences that are squeezed tight; they create a wonderful poetic rhythm. Logan uses this technique throughout her novel, demonstrating the precision and craft in her work. There are definite similarities in her writing style to fellow Scottish novelist and poet Jenni Fagan. Both authors use rich language, which is well crafted and smattered with vernacular. Furthermore, combining this with the reoccurring theme of identity, the oral storytelling tradition, landscape, folklore, and myth, it is clear to see why these authors contribute to the growing canon in Scottish literature.
This is a book that I will read over and over again because I know that in each reading, I will find something new. A Portable Shelter, I feel, deserves a place on my ‘keep’ book shelf.
A Portable Shelter, Kirsty Logan, London: Vintage, 2015
Kirsty Logan’s first collection of short stories, The Rental Heart and Other Fairytales, published by Salt in 2014, won the Polari First Book Prize in 2015. A Portable Shelter is her second collection. Set in a small cottage in the rural north coast of Scotland, Ruth and Liska are expecting their first child. The couple believe that their unborn baby will have a better chance of survival away from the harshness of suburban life. They make a pact with one another, that they will only ever tell their child the truth. Yet while Liska is asleep or Ruth is at work, each whispers secret stories to their unborn child. Delving into fantastical tales about people from their past and re-telling stories that span from generation to generation, the couple unfold the horrors of the real world. Whilst these tales, laced in myth and legend, and fattened with the magic of the imagination, demonstrate the art of oral storytelling, Logan reaches further to show the reader why storytelling is important.
While this book is primarily a collection of short stories, its novel like structure frames each story with a preceding monologue from either Ruth or Liska. The monologues offer delightful morsels of description that bring the harshness of Mother Nature into the safety of the couple’s bedroom, “right now our home is speaking to you. The walls creak their approval in the wind. The rain applauds on the roof. The lighthouse beam swoops, swoops, swoops. The tide breathes loud and slow like a giant. If you listen carefully, perhaps you can even hear the moon hum.” The pace of these sentences, combined with the delicacy of language demonstrates Logan’s skill at describing the sublime spirit of the natural world, which brings the narrative to life.
Most impressive though, is Logan’s poetic language and carefully crafted sentences which create the most beautiful imagery. In ‘Flinch,’ for example – James is a fisherman struggling with his identity, yet his affiliation with the land is locked into his first-person point of view where the reader gets to closely experience what he sees, “The sky is pinkish-grey like the insides of shells. Speckled bonxies wheel overhead. Seals loll on the rocks, fat as kings. The rising mist is cool and milky.” Any of these lines could easily be arranged into a poem and with sentences that are squeezed tight; they create a wonderful poetic rhythm. Logan uses this technique throughout her novel, demonstrating the precision and craft in her work. There are definite similarities in her writing style to fellow Scottish novelist and poet Jenni Fagan. Both authors use rich language, which is well crafted and smattered with vernacular. Furthermore, combining this with the reoccurring theme of identity, the oral storytelling tradition, landscape, folklore, and myth, it is clear to see why these authors contribute to the growing canon in Scottish literature.
This is a book that I will read over and over again because I know that in each reading, I will find something new. A Portable Shelter, I feel, deserves a place on my ‘keep’ book shelf.
A Portable Shelter, Kirsty Logan, London: Vintage, 2015
Kristy H (1252 KP) rated The Widow's House in Books
Feb 8, 2018
Jess and Clare Martin met at Bailey College, in the Hudson River valley, but have been living in New York for years. Jess wrote a successful first novel not long after graduation, but that money has long been spent. He's been working on his second book for ages; it's long overdue, and he needs a new muse. So the two decide to move back to the Hudson River area, where Jess can focus on the book without distractions. They take on duties as caretakers at Riven House, the home of their former college professor, Monty. They can live in a nearby cottage in exchange for helping the elderly Monty with chores. But the setup has its own issues: it's Monty, after all, who wrote a review of Jess' first book that torments him to this day. And as they settle in, Clare begins to hear a baby crying at night and see shadowy figures around the pond of Monty's property. As she investigates local history, she thinks what she sees may be tied to the house's tormented past. The locals say the place is haunted and destroys everyone who stays there. Are Clare and Jess next?
You know how sometimes you start a novel and immediately know, from the first page, that you'll enjoy it? THE WIDOW'S HOUSE was that way for me. It sucked me in immediately and kept me interested throughout; I read it in about 24 hours. The book is filled with complicated characters, starting with Clare. You start to realize she's the ultimate unreliable narrator, but are never able to tell exactly how much. She appears unhappy with her selfish author husband and her marriage. She had a rough childhood--growing up in the Hudson Valley not far from Monty's estate, which has clearly affected the way she sees the world. The entire story is told from her point of view, and we're stuck with all events being filtered through her lens. It's genius really, and it is a refreshing change from so many novels lately that change narrators and time periods. You find yourself working and guessing with Clare as she unravels local history and the events unfolding at Riven House.
The novel is certainly told in the Gothic tradition. I first fell for Goodman via her excellent novel, [b:The Lake of Dead Languages|120274|The Lake of Dead Languages|Carol Goodman|http://images.gr-assets.com/books/1320554718s/120274.jpg|3159707], and this book reminded me of that one in some ways. Unlike some Gothic novels, you do not have to suspend much disbelief as the creepy events unfold around Clare and Jess. There are parts of this book that are incredibly spooky, and it's quite well-done. I loved that I was frantically flipping the pages, constantly second guessing everything and wondering what was happening. There are some great twists that shock you, even as you're still trying to figure things out in you're head (much like Clare). This novel will leave you guessing. It's crazy and confusing, but fascinating and incredibly hard to put down. It's completely enjoyable and stays with you after you've finished it, going over various plot points. Highly recommend.
I received a copy of this novel from the publisher and Edelweiss (thank you!) in return for an unbiased review; it is available everywhere as of 03/07/2017.
<center><a href="http://justacatandabookatherside.blogspot.com/">Blog</a>; ~ <a href="https://twitter.com/mwcmoto">Twitter</a>; ~ <a href="https://www.facebook.com/justacatandabook/">Facebook</a>; ~ <a href="https://plus.google.com/u/0/+KristyHamiltonbooks">Google+</a></center>;
You know how sometimes you start a novel and immediately know, from the first page, that you'll enjoy it? THE WIDOW'S HOUSE was that way for me. It sucked me in immediately and kept me interested throughout; I read it in about 24 hours. The book is filled with complicated characters, starting with Clare. You start to realize she's the ultimate unreliable narrator, but are never able to tell exactly how much. She appears unhappy with her selfish author husband and her marriage. She had a rough childhood--growing up in the Hudson Valley not far from Monty's estate, which has clearly affected the way she sees the world. The entire story is told from her point of view, and we're stuck with all events being filtered through her lens. It's genius really, and it is a refreshing change from so many novels lately that change narrators and time periods. You find yourself working and guessing with Clare as she unravels local history and the events unfolding at Riven House.
The novel is certainly told in the Gothic tradition. I first fell for Goodman via her excellent novel, [b:The Lake of Dead Languages|120274|The Lake of Dead Languages|Carol Goodman|http://images.gr-assets.com/books/1320554718s/120274.jpg|3159707], and this book reminded me of that one in some ways. Unlike some Gothic novels, you do not have to suspend much disbelief as the creepy events unfold around Clare and Jess. There are parts of this book that are incredibly spooky, and it's quite well-done. I loved that I was frantically flipping the pages, constantly second guessing everything and wondering what was happening. There are some great twists that shock you, even as you're still trying to figure things out in you're head (much like Clare). This novel will leave you guessing. It's crazy and confusing, but fascinating and incredibly hard to put down. It's completely enjoyable and stays with you after you've finished it, going over various plot points. Highly recommend.
I received a copy of this novel from the publisher and Edelweiss (thank you!) in return for an unbiased review; it is available everywhere as of 03/07/2017.
<center><a href="http://justacatandabookatherside.blogspot.com/">Blog</a>; ~ <a href="https://twitter.com/mwcmoto">Twitter</a>; ~ <a href="https://www.facebook.com/justacatandabook/">Facebook</a>; ~ <a href="https://plus.google.com/u/0/+KristyHamiltonbooks">Google+</a></center>;
Kristy H (1252 KP) rated I Let You Go in Books
Feb 1, 2018
One rainy evening, an accident occurs on a quiet neighborhood street. Walking home from school with his mother, young Jacob is hit by a car, and killed. Even worse, the car quickly backs up and drives away, leaving Jacob's mother shattered and Detective Inspector Ray Stevens and his team, particularly eager young DC Kate, to seek out answers.
With her world ruined by the accident, Jenna Gray seeks refuge by the coast. She finds a small cottage, gets a dog, and tries to escape the nightmares of the accident that haunt both her dreams and waking hours. Meanwhile, Ray and Kate are forced to close Jacob's case, no closer to the suspect than when they started. But the two remain undaunted, working on the case in their off hours, and an anniversary plea one year after the accident turns up some potential leads. What exactly happened that rainy night? Will justice ever come for Jacob--and peace for Jenna?
This was an excellent thriller-- a real surprise, honestly. The beginning of the novel started out slow, and was so horrendously sad, what with Jacob's accident and his mother's terrible grief. It was one of several book's I'd read lately involving the death of a child, and I was so saddened that I almost set it aside. I'm glad I didn't though, because while the book is gut-wrenchingly sad, it's excellent, tense, and suspenseful. Divided into several parts, things pick up immensely at the end of the first part, when Mackintosh throws in an excellent plot twist (I shan't say anymore so as not to ruin it).
Mackintosh is excellent at conveying Jenna's anguish and the sadness that the accident causes. We also have a side-plot of Ray and his feelings toward his subordinate, Kate. Ray's home life is unbalanced: he's dealing with issues with his son, Tom, and his wife. These are a bit distracting at times, but serve to humanize him as well. The police subplot (watching them try to piece things together) is interesting, also. In fact, the book alternates in perspectives: we hear from Ray, Jenna, and one more character. In part 2, we go back in time for some of the characters, but remain in the present with Ray and Kate as they (much like us, the readers) try to solve this crime. It's an interesting technique and works surprisingly well. Jenna is a complicated character, but a well-drawn one.
Overall, I quite enjoyed this book. I won't spoil anything, but I will say that there is definitely a trigger for domestic abuse/violence, so please be forewarned for that. There's a character in the novel who reminds me of the husband in that creepy Julia Roberts' film "Sleeping with the Enemy" (I'm totally dating myself here). As such I was up late reading one night, completely creeped out. However, that's the sign of an excellent thriller in my opinion. I raced through the last 2/3 of the book and really wasn't disappointed. There are several more twists, but they actually are pretty believable, not outlandish like in many thrillers. Definitely recommend this one (with the abuse caveat thrown in). A unique psychological thriller that's worth your time, for sure.
I received an ARC of this novel from Netgalley - thank you! The U.S. edition is available everywhere on 5/3/16. You can find a review of this book and many more at my <a href="http://justacatandabookatherside.blogspot.com/">blog</a>;.
With her world ruined by the accident, Jenna Gray seeks refuge by the coast. She finds a small cottage, gets a dog, and tries to escape the nightmares of the accident that haunt both her dreams and waking hours. Meanwhile, Ray and Kate are forced to close Jacob's case, no closer to the suspect than when they started. But the two remain undaunted, working on the case in their off hours, and an anniversary plea one year after the accident turns up some potential leads. What exactly happened that rainy night? Will justice ever come for Jacob--and peace for Jenna?
This was an excellent thriller-- a real surprise, honestly. The beginning of the novel started out slow, and was so horrendously sad, what with Jacob's accident and his mother's terrible grief. It was one of several book's I'd read lately involving the death of a child, and I was so saddened that I almost set it aside. I'm glad I didn't though, because while the book is gut-wrenchingly sad, it's excellent, tense, and suspenseful. Divided into several parts, things pick up immensely at the end of the first part, when Mackintosh throws in an excellent plot twist (I shan't say anymore so as not to ruin it).
Mackintosh is excellent at conveying Jenna's anguish and the sadness that the accident causes. We also have a side-plot of Ray and his feelings toward his subordinate, Kate. Ray's home life is unbalanced: he's dealing with issues with his son, Tom, and his wife. These are a bit distracting at times, but serve to humanize him as well. The police subplot (watching them try to piece things together) is interesting, also. In fact, the book alternates in perspectives: we hear from Ray, Jenna, and one more character. In part 2, we go back in time for some of the characters, but remain in the present with Ray and Kate as they (much like us, the readers) try to solve this crime. It's an interesting technique and works surprisingly well. Jenna is a complicated character, but a well-drawn one.
Overall, I quite enjoyed this book. I won't spoil anything, but I will say that there is definitely a trigger for domestic abuse/violence, so please be forewarned for that. There's a character in the novel who reminds me of the husband in that creepy Julia Roberts' film "Sleeping with the Enemy" (I'm totally dating myself here). As such I was up late reading one night, completely creeped out. However, that's the sign of an excellent thriller in my opinion. I raced through the last 2/3 of the book and really wasn't disappointed. There are several more twists, but they actually are pretty believable, not outlandish like in many thrillers. Definitely recommend this one (with the abuse caveat thrown in). A unique psychological thriller that's worth your time, for sure.
I received an ARC of this novel from Netgalley - thank you! The U.S. edition is available everywhere on 5/3/16. You can find a review of this book and many more at my <a href="http://justacatandabookatherside.blogspot.com/">blog</a>;.
Veronica Pena (690 KP) rated Call Me By Your Name in Books
Jan 18, 2020
I loved this book and then I hated it and then I loved it again. Let me back up. I love everything about the way this book was written. I think that if I were going to write a book in a similar fashion, it would look a lot like this. The way Elio thinks and sometimes overthinks is very similar to my own. I think that it's very obvious that this book is written about a European boy in the way that he talks and thinks about love and sex and the grand scheme of life. At one point in the novel, Oliver asks him if he's always been this wise and Elio shrugs and says he knows nothing and I think that is so far from the truth. You would never find an American 17-year old that talks and thinks about love and sex and life in the way that Elio does - at least I don't think - and I loved that. I read a lot of American and English authors and novels and it's nice to be transported to a different place - the very serene cottage that Elio's family lives in - and live vicariously through him and Oliver.
The parts that I didn't like in this novel have nothing to do with the characters or the dialogue or anything pertaining to the story really. I think the trouble of writing a novel from this specific perspective is that Elio's thoughts can get away from him, especially at good parts where you just want the story to keep progressing. Overall though, they always find a way of meaning something and bringing you back in.
Finishing this novel left me with these mixed emotions of euphoria and heartbreak. I love the way that Elio talks about Oliver and frames him to be the great love of his life, essentially, and Oliver does the same thing years after their last encounter together. I find the way that Elio thinks about him and loves him to be magical and all-encompassing and I think if you've ever experienced that overwhelming feeling of love and desire of another person in every way, you can just put yourself in Elio's shoes and you're transported back to that feeling and it's really magical. I think that's what books should do for you.
I was also surprised at how much I enjoyed the time jumps that happen at the end of the novel. Sometimes I think that they are unnecessary and just annoying because you want to think about the characters having lived this certain way and when it's given to you, it can sometimes be disappointing but I didn't feel that with this novel. I appreciated them, I liked where they went, and I liked that there was and probably always will be this unspoken deep, unresolvable love between Elio and Oliver.
This novel is written almost as if Elio is dying and someone asked him about the love of his life and he remembers it so vividly and with so much love that he's lying back and telling this story and just reminiscing and falling in love with Oliver all over again - at least that's how I read it. I loved this novel. The last paragraph just really pulls it out of you and I just. It's great. I'm not sure what else to say other than it's great.
The parts that I didn't like in this novel have nothing to do with the characters or the dialogue or anything pertaining to the story really. I think the trouble of writing a novel from this specific perspective is that Elio's thoughts can get away from him, especially at good parts where you just want the story to keep progressing. Overall though, they always find a way of meaning something and bringing you back in.
Finishing this novel left me with these mixed emotions of euphoria and heartbreak. I love the way that Elio talks about Oliver and frames him to be the great love of his life, essentially, and Oliver does the same thing years after their last encounter together. I find the way that Elio thinks about him and loves him to be magical and all-encompassing and I think if you've ever experienced that overwhelming feeling of love and desire of another person in every way, you can just put yourself in Elio's shoes and you're transported back to that feeling and it's really magical. I think that's what books should do for you.
I was also surprised at how much I enjoyed the time jumps that happen at the end of the novel. Sometimes I think that they are unnecessary and just annoying because you want to think about the characters having lived this certain way and when it's given to you, it can sometimes be disappointing but I didn't feel that with this novel. I appreciated them, I liked where they went, and I liked that there was and probably always will be this unspoken deep, unresolvable love between Elio and Oliver.
This novel is written almost as if Elio is dying and someone asked him about the love of his life and he remembers it so vividly and with so much love that he's lying back and telling this story and just reminiscing and falling in love with Oliver all over again - at least that's how I read it. I loved this novel. The last paragraph just really pulls it out of you and I just. It's great. I'm not sure what else to say other than it's great.