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Lucy Buglass (45 KP) rated Jojo Rabbit (2019) in Movies
Oct 14, 2019
The premise of Jojo Rabbit is a bold one, and something that could have very easily been executed terribly on-screen.
Whilst you might feel some apprehension about the concept of a 10-year-old boy who has Hitler as an imaginary friend, Taika Waititi has turned it into something brilliant and poignant.
As mentioned above, the film follows Johannes ‘Jojo’ Betzler, who lives in Nazi Germany. He’s a fanatic and is driven by his desire to serve Adolf Hitler in the German army during World War II, even joining a Hitler Youth Camp which is run by Captain Klenzendorf (Sam Rockwell).
Jojo is unlike any other child protagonist I’ve seen, because it’s easy to have very mixed feelings about who he is as a person. He’s a child and his everyday behaviour is indicative of someone who lacks maturity, resulting in some laugh out loud moments.
However, a lot of what he says happens to be horrendous insults towards the Jewish community. He’s fuelled by a love of Hitler (even going as far as to describe him as his ‘best friend’).
Throughout the film, he imagines scenarios in which Hitler is there with him, such as when he’s looking in the mirror and giving himself a pep-talk.
The strength of Jojo Rabbit‘s protagonist is a testament to actor Roman Griffin Davis, and I found it hard to believe that this was his first ever film performance. He’s funny, flawed, and a very well-rounded character brilliantly brought to life.
As for Jojo’s imaginary Hitler, he’s hysterically funny and not at all how you’d imagine the real man to be. Played brilliantly by director Taika Waititi, he is a caricature of a deplorable historical figure, and fuels Jojo’s delusions of how wonderful he is.
He’s simply someone’s interpretation of a political leader, created by a child who has been brainwashed into believing Nazi propaganda by adults in his life.
This bubbly oversimplification of a dictator is what you’d expect from a naive child, who isn’t fully aware of the atrocities around him.
The fact Taika Waititi plays this version of Hitler feels important, because he’s mocking him in the best possible way. As a Jewish man, it feels very appropriate that he criticises Hitler’s ideology through his satirical performance. It was brilliant.
Adding jokes to such a horrific situation is difficult, but this is where Jojo Rabbit really excels. The balance between humour and gut-punching reality checks is beautifully done, and there were times when I wasn’t sure whether my tears were from laughing or because I was genuinely sad at what I’d just seen.
Relationships are an important part of the film, particularly the one between Jojo and his mother Rosie (Scarlett Johansson). However, this becomes strained when he finds out that his mother is hiding a young Jewish woman in their home.
Jojo’s meeting with Elsa Korr (Thomasin McKenzie) is central to the story and gives us a real insight into the horrific treatment of Jewish people during this period, and the extreme lengths they’d go to keep themselves safe.
Despite Elsa’s life constantly being in jeopardy, she’s very sassy and gives young Jojo a run for his money once the two meet. The way the two characters bounce off each other is exceptional, and again, you’ll laugh and cry in equal measure.
I was also impressed by some brief appearances in the film such as Rebel Wilson as Fraulein Rahm, who I found hilarious in this film. I must admit I’m not always a fan of her work, but here she really delivered.
Stephen Merchant as Captain Deertz and Archie Yates as young Yorki are also worthy of praise, as every time they were on screen I found them delightful to watch. Much like Roman Griffin Davis, this was Archie’s first film, and he stole the show every time he was in a scene.
Jojo Rabbit is, simply put, political satire at its finest. As a result of this, it’s an emotional rollercoaster and one that I am excited to revisit whenever I get the chance.
It’s darkly funny with an important overall message of confronting ideologies, and I’d urge you to seek it out ASAP.
Whilst you might feel some apprehension about the concept of a 10-year-old boy who has Hitler as an imaginary friend, Taika Waititi has turned it into something brilliant and poignant.
As mentioned above, the film follows Johannes ‘Jojo’ Betzler, who lives in Nazi Germany. He’s a fanatic and is driven by his desire to serve Adolf Hitler in the German army during World War II, even joining a Hitler Youth Camp which is run by Captain Klenzendorf (Sam Rockwell).
Jojo is unlike any other child protagonist I’ve seen, because it’s easy to have very mixed feelings about who he is as a person. He’s a child and his everyday behaviour is indicative of someone who lacks maturity, resulting in some laugh out loud moments.
However, a lot of what he says happens to be horrendous insults towards the Jewish community. He’s fuelled by a love of Hitler (even going as far as to describe him as his ‘best friend’).
Throughout the film, he imagines scenarios in which Hitler is there with him, such as when he’s looking in the mirror and giving himself a pep-talk.
The strength of Jojo Rabbit‘s protagonist is a testament to actor Roman Griffin Davis, and I found it hard to believe that this was his first ever film performance. He’s funny, flawed, and a very well-rounded character brilliantly brought to life.
As for Jojo’s imaginary Hitler, he’s hysterically funny and not at all how you’d imagine the real man to be. Played brilliantly by director Taika Waititi, he is a caricature of a deplorable historical figure, and fuels Jojo’s delusions of how wonderful he is.
He’s simply someone’s interpretation of a political leader, created by a child who has been brainwashed into believing Nazi propaganda by adults in his life.
This bubbly oversimplification of a dictator is what you’d expect from a naive child, who isn’t fully aware of the atrocities around him.
The fact Taika Waititi plays this version of Hitler feels important, because he’s mocking him in the best possible way. As a Jewish man, it feels very appropriate that he criticises Hitler’s ideology through his satirical performance. It was brilliant.
Adding jokes to such a horrific situation is difficult, but this is where Jojo Rabbit really excels. The balance between humour and gut-punching reality checks is beautifully done, and there were times when I wasn’t sure whether my tears were from laughing or because I was genuinely sad at what I’d just seen.
Relationships are an important part of the film, particularly the one between Jojo and his mother Rosie (Scarlett Johansson). However, this becomes strained when he finds out that his mother is hiding a young Jewish woman in their home.
Jojo’s meeting with Elsa Korr (Thomasin McKenzie) is central to the story and gives us a real insight into the horrific treatment of Jewish people during this period, and the extreme lengths they’d go to keep themselves safe.
Despite Elsa’s life constantly being in jeopardy, she’s very sassy and gives young Jojo a run for his money once the two meet. The way the two characters bounce off each other is exceptional, and again, you’ll laugh and cry in equal measure.
I was also impressed by some brief appearances in the film such as Rebel Wilson as Fraulein Rahm, who I found hilarious in this film. I must admit I’m not always a fan of her work, but here she really delivered.
Stephen Merchant as Captain Deertz and Archie Yates as young Yorki are also worthy of praise, as every time they were on screen I found them delightful to watch. Much like Roman Griffin Davis, this was Archie’s first film, and he stole the show every time he was in a scene.
Jojo Rabbit is, simply put, political satire at its finest. As a result of this, it’s an emotional rollercoaster and one that I am excited to revisit whenever I get the chance.
It’s darkly funny with an important overall message of confronting ideologies, and I’d urge you to seek it out ASAP.
Hazel (1853 KP) rated Spilt Milk in Books
May 30, 2017
Not about milk
I received this book for free through Goodreads First Reads.
Spilt Milk is the second historical novel by Amanda Hodgkinson, award-winning British author of 22 Britannia Road. Split into two parts it follows the lives of two sisters over several decades during the first half of the twentieth century. Set in Britain, this is a novel about relationships, family, secrets… and illegitimate pregnancies. Lots of illegitimate pregnancies.
The first part spans from 1913 until 1917 thus covering the First World War period. The second part picks up the storyline in 1939 and continues until the novel’s final pages set in 1965. So yet another world war is included, although it has little impact on the plot. The first chapter is almost like the calm before the storm. Everything appears peaceful and happy until everything spirals out of control. Vivian and Nellie Marsh (aged twenty three and twenty two) have been raised by their older sister Rose in a small farmhouse since the death of their parents when Nellie was a baby. We first meet Nellie rinsing chamber pots outside where she has a feeling that something is going to happen; something good, she hopes. Alas, it turns out it was a bad feeling after all as floodwaters rise and Rose dies. The only apparent good thing is the arrival of a hired farm hand, Joe Ferier. But no, that is also a bad occurrence that leaves one sister pregnant and the other temporarily homeless.
Over the years we see how the sisters deal with the way in which their lives have drastically changed up until Nellie has a child with her husbands brother. Luckily her husband is willing to pass the child off as his own, and so Nellie, unlike the other secret pregnancies in this story, actually gets to keep her love child.
At the start of part two, Nellie’s daughter Bertha (commonly known as Birdie) is eighteen years old and finds herself – can you guess? – pregnant after a one night stand. So that it can remain secret she goes to live with her Aunt Vivian until the baby is born and adopted. Vivian ends up housing many girls including a couple of minor characters who have got themselves in a similar way. I did say there were a lot of illegitimate pregnancies! It also comes to light that supposedly innocent, spinster Rose had not one but two babies during her teenage years.
The remainder of the novel shows us how the girls: Nellie, Vivian and Birdie; get on with their lives under the burden of their personal secrets and emotions. It is Birdie who struggles the most with the knowledge that her daughter is growing up without her but to talk to anyone about it would have deep consequences.
The size of the time period means that the reader can become attached to certain key characters and feel their pain as they struggle with their emotional afflictions, however each scene passes quickly as time goes on which means we do not really get to appreciate the minor characters.
Overall it is a good, reasonably quick read which many women would enjoy, particularly those who appreciate historical fiction and may have sisters of their own and therefore understand what the power of keeping secrets can result in.
Spilt Milk is the second historical novel by Amanda Hodgkinson, award-winning British author of 22 Britannia Road. Split into two parts it follows the lives of two sisters over several decades during the first half of the twentieth century. Set in Britain, this is a novel about relationships, family, secrets… and illegitimate pregnancies. Lots of illegitimate pregnancies.
The first part spans from 1913 until 1917 thus covering the First World War period. The second part picks up the storyline in 1939 and continues until the novel’s final pages set in 1965. So yet another world war is included, although it has little impact on the plot. The first chapter is almost like the calm before the storm. Everything appears peaceful and happy until everything spirals out of control. Vivian and Nellie Marsh (aged twenty three and twenty two) have been raised by their older sister Rose in a small farmhouse since the death of their parents when Nellie was a baby. We first meet Nellie rinsing chamber pots outside where she has a feeling that something is going to happen; something good, she hopes. Alas, it turns out it was a bad feeling after all as floodwaters rise and Rose dies. The only apparent good thing is the arrival of a hired farm hand, Joe Ferier. But no, that is also a bad occurrence that leaves one sister pregnant and the other temporarily homeless.
Over the years we see how the sisters deal with the way in which their lives have drastically changed up until Nellie has a child with her husbands brother. Luckily her husband is willing to pass the child off as his own, and so Nellie, unlike the other secret pregnancies in this story, actually gets to keep her love child.
At the start of part two, Nellie’s daughter Bertha (commonly known as Birdie) is eighteen years old and finds herself – can you guess? – pregnant after a one night stand. So that it can remain secret she goes to live with her Aunt Vivian until the baby is born and adopted. Vivian ends up housing many girls including a couple of minor characters who have got themselves in a similar way. I did say there were a lot of illegitimate pregnancies! It also comes to light that supposedly innocent, spinster Rose had not one but two babies during her teenage years.
The remainder of the novel shows us how the girls: Nellie, Vivian and Birdie; get on with their lives under the burden of their personal secrets and emotions. It is Birdie who struggles the most with the knowledge that her daughter is growing up without her but to talk to anyone about it would have deep consequences.
The size of the time period means that the reader can become attached to certain key characters and feel their pain as they struggle with their emotional afflictions, however each scene passes quickly as time goes on which means we do not really get to appreciate the minor characters.
Overall it is a good, reasonably quick read which many women would enjoy, particularly those who appreciate historical fiction and may have sisters of their own and therefore understand what the power of keeping secrets can result in.
Gareth von Kallenbach (980 KP) rated Aquaman (2018) in Movies
Jun 19, 2019
In a tale as vast and epic as the Oceans that frames the story: “Aquaman” has arrived in a flurry of action and adventure.
The film tells the origin of Arthur Curry (Jason Momoa), who is half mortal and half Atlantean, thanks to his human father rescuing his mother, an Atlantean royal, and falling in love.
The love between his parents is forbidden under the customs of the people of Atlantis and in time his mother is forced to return to Atlantis, leaving Arthur to be raised by his human father.
When his power-hungry half-brother Orm (Patrick Wilson), plots to wage war on the surface world, Princess Mera (Amber Heard), attempts to convince Arthur to make his first trip to Atlantis to challenge Orm for the throne and become king. Naturally a lifetime of resentment toward the people who divided his parents has made Arthur unwilling to help, especially when the key to victory requires locating and retrieving an artfact that will bring peace to
his people and those of the surface world.
With an army of Atlantean soldiers pursuing him as well as the evil Black Manta set on revenge, Arthur faces an uphill battle as he races against time and his own conflicted emotions to save the day.
Director James Wan has done an amazing job of giving audiences a lavish and action-filled experience that never loses the characters as the main
focus of the story. He cleverly blends the lore of Aquaman with a modern
twist yet stays true to the character. Jason Momoa has an intriguing presence, giving the character more depth than expected. The supporting cast is solid and the film rarely loses pacing or fails to keep you fascinated throughout.
Warner has had some issues with recent adaptations of DC characters but, like Wonder Woman, “Aquaman” delivers on action and storytelling. The film also contains a strong message about ecology without being preachy. This is one of the more entertaining films of the year and should make fans of the character happy. I look forward to seeing what adventure comes next for Aquaman.
http://sknr.net/2018/12/18/aquaman/
The film tells the origin of Arthur Curry (Jason Momoa), who is half mortal and half Atlantean, thanks to his human father rescuing his mother, an Atlantean royal, and falling in love.
The love between his parents is forbidden under the customs of the people of Atlantis and in time his mother is forced to return to Atlantis, leaving Arthur to be raised by his human father.
When his power-hungry half-brother Orm (Patrick Wilson), plots to wage war on the surface world, Princess Mera (Amber Heard), attempts to convince Arthur to make his first trip to Atlantis to challenge Orm for the throne and become king. Naturally a lifetime of resentment toward the people who divided his parents has made Arthur unwilling to help, especially when the key to victory requires locating and retrieving an artfact that will bring peace to
his people and those of the surface world.
With an army of Atlantean soldiers pursuing him as well as the evil Black Manta set on revenge, Arthur faces an uphill battle as he races against time and his own conflicted emotions to save the day.
Director James Wan has done an amazing job of giving audiences a lavish and action-filled experience that never loses the characters as the main
focus of the story. He cleverly blends the lore of Aquaman with a modern
twist yet stays true to the character. Jason Momoa has an intriguing presence, giving the character more depth than expected. The supporting cast is solid and the film rarely loses pacing or fails to keep you fascinated throughout.
Warner has had some issues with recent adaptations of DC characters but, like Wonder Woman, “Aquaman” delivers on action and storytelling. The film also contains a strong message about ecology without being preachy. This is one of the more entertaining films of the year and should make fans of the character happy. I look forward to seeing what adventure comes next for Aquaman.
http://sknr.net/2018/12/18/aquaman/
ClareR (5885 KP) rated The Island of Missing Trees in Books
Sep 28, 2021
How come this is only the first book I’ve read by Elif Shafak?! This is a book full of heart, feeling and imagination - it’s just beautiful. The Island of Missing Trees has taught me far more about what happened in Cyprus and the war/ dispute between Cypriots and the Turkish invasion.
There’s a feel of Romeo and Juliet about this: a Greek-Cypriot boy (Kostas), and a Turkish-Cypriot girl (Defne) fall in love - something forbidden in the climate they’re living in. They meet in secret in a tavern that has a fig tree growing through the centre of it. This is a significant tree - it’s one of the main narrators of this story. And what a story it has to tell. It talks about the natural world in which it lives, the humans that it comes into contact with, the conflict it lives through, the sorrow, the loss.
This book describes the fracturing of a country, people forced to leave the country they love. Kostas is one of these people. He moves to London to live with his uncle, but he never seems to feel as though he fits in in there. He does follow his passion though, and becomes an expert in Natural History: the trees and plants around him, around the world, and in his native Cyprus. Which is what brings him and Defne back together, and reunites them with the fig tree.
The three of them return to London together, all cast adrift from their homeland.
Later, Kostas and Defne’s daughter carries this feeling of not quite belonging as well, but her father doesn’t seem to be able to give her what she needs. She knows nothing of her roots: she has no contact with her Cypriot family - until the day her aunt arrives.
The way that Shafak writes about loss and the pain of loss is visceral, but there’s a great deal of hope and the promise of healing. This book just has it all. I was completely enveloped in this story, and I’ve been left with a pressing need to read everything else that Elif Shafak has written!
Many thanks to Jellybooks and Penguin for providing me with a copy of this book to read.
There’s a feel of Romeo and Juliet about this: a Greek-Cypriot boy (Kostas), and a Turkish-Cypriot girl (Defne) fall in love - something forbidden in the climate they’re living in. They meet in secret in a tavern that has a fig tree growing through the centre of it. This is a significant tree - it’s one of the main narrators of this story. And what a story it has to tell. It talks about the natural world in which it lives, the humans that it comes into contact with, the conflict it lives through, the sorrow, the loss.
This book describes the fracturing of a country, people forced to leave the country they love. Kostas is one of these people. He moves to London to live with his uncle, but he never seems to feel as though he fits in in there. He does follow his passion though, and becomes an expert in Natural History: the trees and plants around him, around the world, and in his native Cyprus. Which is what brings him and Defne back together, and reunites them with the fig tree.
The three of them return to London together, all cast adrift from their homeland.
Later, Kostas and Defne’s daughter carries this feeling of not quite belonging as well, but her father doesn’t seem to be able to give her what she needs. She knows nothing of her roots: she has no contact with her Cypriot family - until the day her aunt arrives.
The way that Shafak writes about loss and the pain of loss is visceral, but there’s a great deal of hope and the promise of healing. This book just has it all. I was completely enveloped in this story, and I’ve been left with a pressing need to read everything else that Elif Shafak has written!
Many thanks to Jellybooks and Penguin for providing me with a copy of this book to read.
Kara Skinner (332 KP) rated The Robber Knight in Books
Sep 10, 2019
When you are fighting for the freedom of your people, falling in love with your enemy is not a great idea. Or is it? Ayla has to defend her castle and her people all on her own, with nobody to help her but a dark warrior she hates with all her heart.
Sir Reuben, the dreaded robber knight, has long been Ayla’s deadliest enemy. He has prayed on her and her people ever since her father fell ill, and she swore he would hang for his crimes. Now they are both trapped in her castle as the army of a far greater enemy approaches, and they have only one chance: stand together, or fall.
This book wasn’t bad, honestly. I’m a huge fan of historical fiction, and it had been awhile since I’ve read a medieval love story, so that was a nice change of pace.
The author is a historian, so there are a lot of little things in this book that you don’t see in a lot of other historical romance books. For instance,you can’t pull out arrows because there are often barbs attached to cause fatal wounds if pulled out. I did like learning about all of these facts. But sometimes Thier lets the historian in him gets the best of him, but more on that later.
Lady Ayla was a pretty interesting character. Headstrong and wise for her years, she is very noble and progressive. She has all of the makings for a great leader– with the exception of knowledge. I loved how kind and committed she was to her people and I love the fact that she has some spunk. I mean, if I’m getting robbed in the forest by this random stranger, then I hope I would swear him out too (of course, if I could beat him up and get away, then that’s even better, but Ayla doesn’t have much self-defense skills). But there were many times that she was annoying, like her insistence on being near battles, even before she started treating the sick. And how she tried to manage Sir Isenbard during battle. She had called on him for help because he was an experienced knight, and now she was questioning his commands and strategies in the heat of battle!
Mostly, though, I really did like Ayla. She defines the idea of nobility. With war inevitable, she’s willing to ride personally to the edges of her land to warn her subjects and she is always at the outskirts of battle to help care for the wounded. She invites everyone into the castle for their safety and rations herself as well as the others to conserve food. She’s even willing to corrupt herself to save her people.
Reuben is an excellent character as well, although it did take me awhile to like him. In the beginning he fell a little flat. It’s clear that he used to be a knight but something happened and now he robs people for his own greed. A near-death experience and being saved by Lady Ayla reawakens the humanity in him. And apparently also some depth.
In the beginning of the book he spends a lot of his time admiring his loot and laughing about his victims, who thought they had a right to steal from him. But that’s all he does. We have no real insight into his character or backstory until after he’s in Ayla’s care. Only then are there hints of a bad history where he had been arrested many times, been tortured, and had at one point been a member of respectable society. If it weren’t for the fact that I liked Ayla’a character and the plot so far, I probably would have stopped reading.
Thier is a writer who has really good potential in becoming a great romance writer, especially for historical fiction. The plots have some unique twists that are augmented by his knowledge of history and after Reuben’s character shaped up, he was an excellent love interest. But there is one huge problem with this story: the footnotes.
There are so many footnotes throughout most of the book that I feel like I’m reading a history textbook, which is not good when I usually read romance novels to take a break from homework. Not only are they distracting and unnecessary, but they are also rude and condescending. Sure, sometimes they were useful, like in explaining the references to the seven princes of hell. Another one was a pretty funny anecdote about how one of his readers had actually confirmed that lard burns and that burning arrows work because they had actually done it. There is also a lot of wit throughout the footnotes which is pretty amusing. But most of the time, they were annoying.
For instance, Robert Thier thought it was necessary to include a footnote about how witches were considered bad during medieval times. Seriously? Even if someone failed history, we know that witches are not considered fine, upstanding citizens. Or maybe he thinks all of us have been locked in our rooms with no books, internet or television for our entire lives and for the month of October we all miraculously fell into a coma so we couldn’t see the giant blow-up witch in the neighbor’s yard. And then we’d all wake up singing Christmas carols after the month long coma without a care in the world because this happens every year so we don’t know what a witch is. (I’m developing a conspiracy theory about how these strange comas was caused by witchcraft.)
Maybe Thier assumed that instead of us thinking Reuben was scared of witches when he wondered if Ayla was one, we just thought he was commenting on how much Ayla looked like Sandra Bullock.
And one of the footnotes was just plain offensive. Here is the line of text that the footnote is attached to: “Heel! Abominable villain! You dare defy me?” (page 74)
Now, here’s the footnote: “Sorry to disappoint the ladies, but this doesn’t refer to high heels. It is a medieval term for a very nasty person.”
Excuse me? Did you just assume that I thought it meant high heels and that would make me excited? What world do you live in?
Apparently he thinks “the ladies” are so dumb that we are incapable of taking context clues and we immediately think everything relates back to fashion. Maybe I didn’t know it meant “very nasty person”, but it’s pretty clear it’s a swear or insult of sometime, not a freaking Jimmy Choo. Does he just imagine us thinking high heel every time we hear the word?
“She broke his nose with the heel of her hand.” Oh. High heel!
“Heel, fido! I said heel!” Oh. High heel!
“It will take one or two days for your cut to heal.” Oh. High heel! (Because if he thinks we don’t understand the difference between uncomfortable footwear and an insult, then he probably thinks we can’t spell, either).
But hey, at least Robert Thier thinks women can memorize stuff, because the footnote links stop as the vocabulary is repeated instead of new terms being introduced.
Aside from the footnotes, I really do like this book, and I can’t wait to read the second part of it, which I’ll read soon. Thier still has a long way to go, but I think after he has more experience, he’ll write some great books.
Sir Reuben, the dreaded robber knight, has long been Ayla’s deadliest enemy. He has prayed on her and her people ever since her father fell ill, and she swore he would hang for his crimes. Now they are both trapped in her castle as the army of a far greater enemy approaches, and they have only one chance: stand together, or fall.
This book wasn’t bad, honestly. I’m a huge fan of historical fiction, and it had been awhile since I’ve read a medieval love story, so that was a nice change of pace.
The author is a historian, so there are a lot of little things in this book that you don’t see in a lot of other historical romance books. For instance,you can’t pull out arrows because there are often barbs attached to cause fatal wounds if pulled out. I did like learning about all of these facts. But sometimes Thier lets the historian in him gets the best of him, but more on that later.
Lady Ayla was a pretty interesting character. Headstrong and wise for her years, she is very noble and progressive. She has all of the makings for a great leader– with the exception of knowledge. I loved how kind and committed she was to her people and I love the fact that she has some spunk. I mean, if I’m getting robbed in the forest by this random stranger, then I hope I would swear him out too (of course, if I could beat him up and get away, then that’s even better, but Ayla doesn’t have much self-defense skills). But there were many times that she was annoying, like her insistence on being near battles, even before she started treating the sick. And how she tried to manage Sir Isenbard during battle. She had called on him for help because he was an experienced knight, and now she was questioning his commands and strategies in the heat of battle!
Mostly, though, I really did like Ayla. She defines the idea of nobility. With war inevitable, she’s willing to ride personally to the edges of her land to warn her subjects and she is always at the outskirts of battle to help care for the wounded. She invites everyone into the castle for their safety and rations herself as well as the others to conserve food. She’s even willing to corrupt herself to save her people.
Reuben is an excellent character as well, although it did take me awhile to like him. In the beginning he fell a little flat. It’s clear that he used to be a knight but something happened and now he robs people for his own greed. A near-death experience and being saved by Lady Ayla reawakens the humanity in him. And apparently also some depth.
In the beginning of the book he spends a lot of his time admiring his loot and laughing about his victims, who thought they had a right to steal from him. But that’s all he does. We have no real insight into his character or backstory until after he’s in Ayla’s care. Only then are there hints of a bad history where he had been arrested many times, been tortured, and had at one point been a member of respectable society. If it weren’t for the fact that I liked Ayla’a character and the plot so far, I probably would have stopped reading.
Thier is a writer who has really good potential in becoming a great romance writer, especially for historical fiction. The plots have some unique twists that are augmented by his knowledge of history and after Reuben’s character shaped up, he was an excellent love interest. But there is one huge problem with this story: the footnotes.
There are so many footnotes throughout most of the book that I feel like I’m reading a history textbook, which is not good when I usually read romance novels to take a break from homework. Not only are they distracting and unnecessary, but they are also rude and condescending. Sure, sometimes they were useful, like in explaining the references to the seven princes of hell. Another one was a pretty funny anecdote about how one of his readers had actually confirmed that lard burns and that burning arrows work because they had actually done it. There is also a lot of wit throughout the footnotes which is pretty amusing. But most of the time, they were annoying.
For instance, Robert Thier thought it was necessary to include a footnote about how witches were considered bad during medieval times. Seriously? Even if someone failed history, we know that witches are not considered fine, upstanding citizens. Or maybe he thinks all of us have been locked in our rooms with no books, internet or television for our entire lives and for the month of October we all miraculously fell into a coma so we couldn’t see the giant blow-up witch in the neighbor’s yard. And then we’d all wake up singing Christmas carols after the month long coma without a care in the world because this happens every year so we don’t know what a witch is. (I’m developing a conspiracy theory about how these strange comas was caused by witchcraft.)
Maybe Thier assumed that instead of us thinking Reuben was scared of witches when he wondered if Ayla was one, we just thought he was commenting on how much Ayla looked like Sandra Bullock.
And one of the footnotes was just plain offensive. Here is the line of text that the footnote is attached to: “Heel! Abominable villain! You dare defy me?” (page 74)
Now, here’s the footnote: “Sorry to disappoint the ladies, but this doesn’t refer to high heels. It is a medieval term for a very nasty person.”
Excuse me? Did you just assume that I thought it meant high heels and that would make me excited? What world do you live in?
Apparently he thinks “the ladies” are so dumb that we are incapable of taking context clues and we immediately think everything relates back to fashion. Maybe I didn’t know it meant “very nasty person”, but it’s pretty clear it’s a swear or insult of sometime, not a freaking Jimmy Choo. Does he just imagine us thinking high heel every time we hear the word?
“She broke his nose with the heel of her hand.” Oh. High heel!
“Heel, fido! I said heel!” Oh. High heel!
“It will take one or two days for your cut to heal.” Oh. High heel! (Because if he thinks we don’t understand the difference between uncomfortable footwear and an insult, then he probably thinks we can’t spell, either).
But hey, at least Robert Thier thinks women can memorize stuff, because the footnote links stop as the vocabulary is repeated instead of new terms being introduced.
Aside from the footnotes, I really do like this book, and I can’t wait to read the second part of it, which I’ll read soon. Thier still has a long way to go, but I think after he has more experience, he’ll write some great books.
Suswatibasu (1703 KP) rated Postcapitalism: A Guide to Our Future in Books
Nov 28, 2017
Some useful criticism and interesting speculation
As a former colleague of Paul Mason, I'm aware of his left-wing sensibilities having produced some of his work while he was in Greece celebrating Syriza's victory, the Scottish referendum as well as the war in Gaza. As a result, his own staunch views comes across strongly in this book, but I was surprised that he was able to critique Marxist polemics clearly without resorting to bias.
Mason writes about the way in which the present model of capitalism, and by extension the capitalist system itself, has reached a critical point. The old model is coming off the rails, sinking under the weight of the massive debts that it has created as a result of financialisation and downright fraud, and finding that its very success in transferring wealth upwards leaves it short of the demand that it needs to keep the wheels turning. It’s not suited to a world in which the marginal cost of the stuff that people want to buy is approaching zero. It is in any case ill-equipped to deal with the challenges of climate change, an ageing population and instability-induced mass migrations.
What's great about this book is the way it synthesises some of the best writing about the transformative potential of the internet and the web with a non-dogmatic perspective from the Marxist tradition.
There are a lot of arguments made in this book, that can easily be strung out into a university course. Consequently, Mason spreads himself a little thin in some areas such as climate change. Despite this, it's still important and worth the dense read.
Mason writes about the way in which the present model of capitalism, and by extension the capitalist system itself, has reached a critical point. The old model is coming off the rails, sinking under the weight of the massive debts that it has created as a result of financialisation and downright fraud, and finding that its very success in transferring wealth upwards leaves it short of the demand that it needs to keep the wheels turning. It’s not suited to a world in which the marginal cost of the stuff that people want to buy is approaching zero. It is in any case ill-equipped to deal with the challenges of climate change, an ageing population and instability-induced mass migrations.
What's great about this book is the way it synthesises some of the best writing about the transformative potential of the internet and the web with a non-dogmatic perspective from the Marxist tradition.
There are a lot of arguments made in this book, that can easily be strung out into a university course. Consequently, Mason spreads himself a little thin in some areas such as climate change. Despite this, it's still important and worth the dense read.
Awix (3310 KP) rated Blood Red Skies in Tabletop Games
May 18, 2018 (Updated May 18, 2018)
Warlord Games continue in their mission to entice Games Workshop's veteran players with an elegant and very engaging game of fighter combat from the Second World War. The system partly involves chucking loads of d6s, as you might expect, but also hinges around a very neat mechanic involving a tilting flying base which indicates your planes' status and places them at a state of advantage or disadvantage. The basic rules are very simple to learn; playing the game well is considerably more of a challenge.
Most of the components in the starter box are very appealing and well put-together; the planes come in different coloured plastic so even without paint they are easy to distinguish. If I had to sling a slight brick at this release it's that the rulebooks are very skimpy and don't cover a number of situations which are almost certain to arise in your first few games; it's easy enough to figure out what 'should' happen but it would be good to have official confirmation. The advanced rules for using bombers and other multi-engined planes are also somewhat confusingly presented.
There's also the point that even a week or so after the game's release, the general consensus is that the points values for some of the starting planes are a little bit hinky - the Spits and 109s seem well-balanced, but Russian Yaks seem generously priced while Japanese Zeroes cost too many points, for instance. However, many supplementary releases of other planes and so on are planned, so no doubt this will be fixed in due time. In the meantime this is a very enjoyable, attractive and extremely playable game.
Most of the components in the starter box are very appealing and well put-together; the planes come in different coloured plastic so even without paint they are easy to distinguish. If I had to sling a slight brick at this release it's that the rulebooks are very skimpy and don't cover a number of situations which are almost certain to arise in your first few games; it's easy enough to figure out what 'should' happen but it would be good to have official confirmation. The advanced rules for using bombers and other multi-engined planes are also somewhat confusingly presented.
There's also the point that even a week or so after the game's release, the general consensus is that the points values for some of the starting planes are a little bit hinky - the Spits and 109s seem well-balanced, but Russian Yaks seem generously priced while Japanese Zeroes cost too many points, for instance. However, many supplementary releases of other planes and so on are planned, so no doubt this will be fixed in due time. In the meantime this is a very enjoyable, attractive and extremely playable game.
Natari (73 KP) rated Hunt the Moon (Cassandra Palmer, #5) in Books
Jul 19, 2019
Hunt the Moon is a great addition to the series because it takes us Deeper than ever before. Prepare to light up the dark side of the moon, because this book is a super-bright flashlight on the mysteries and mythologies that fuel the Cassandra Palmer world and the overall plot of the series. But be ready for some shadows and more questions to be thrown in as unexpected twists and turns take us on a whole new, thrilling angle.
I really enjoyed Hunt the Moon. Karen Chance onces again nails the pace of action, romance and deepening our understanding of the loveable characters she has created. In Hunt the Moon we learn a lot about the big three, Cassie, Pritkin and Mircea which puts their behaviour and way of reacting to life in a whole new light. It's a work of art.
In Hunt the Moon, Cassie finds herself a brand new enemy, because rogue vampires, black wizards and gods were't enough. Now she gets to throw in the fae and demi-gods too. Who bring with them a whole new bag of tricks. And while you shouldn't laugh at someone who always seems to find herself and her bodyguards in the midst of explosions, but, well, it's damn funny when a stoned pythia is glaring at a possessed fridge. Karen is able to be serious and cover some unsettling topics like war, politics and childhood trauma (of all varieties) and balance it with pleasant prose and just straight-up fun. That's the best word for the Cassie Palmer series, it is fun to read.
I really enjoyed Hunt the Moon. Karen Chance onces again nails the pace of action, romance and deepening our understanding of the loveable characters she has created. In Hunt the Moon we learn a lot about the big three, Cassie, Pritkin and Mircea which puts their behaviour and way of reacting to life in a whole new light. It's a work of art.
In Hunt the Moon, Cassie finds herself a brand new enemy, because rogue vampires, black wizards and gods were't enough. Now she gets to throw in the fae and demi-gods too. Who bring with them a whole new bag of tricks. And while you shouldn't laugh at someone who always seems to find herself and her bodyguards in the midst of explosions, but, well, it's damn funny when a stoned pythia is glaring at a possessed fridge. Karen is able to be serious and cover some unsettling topics like war, politics and childhood trauma (of all varieties) and balance it with pleasant prose and just straight-up fun. That's the best word for the Cassie Palmer series, it is fun to read.
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