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ClareR (6129 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.
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.
Margaret of York: The Diabolical Duchess
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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.