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Goddess in the Stacks (553 KP) rated Sweet Little Lies in Books
Aug 26, 2018
Sweet Little Lies was billed as a thriller in Book of the Month's description, but it's more of a police procedural. I hadn't read one before, though I watch plenty of them on Netflix - they're a bit of a guilty pleasure! It was interesting having one in book form. It's not my typical fare, but I did enjoy it, far more than I probably would have enjoyed a true thriller. It's got all your typical parts of a police procedural - older family man cop, ball-busting female chief who isn't as bitchy as she first appears, troubled main character who snapped on a case, police psychiatrist, puzzling case, lying witnesses. All we're really missing is a partner who isn't actually a cop but somehow worms his way into cases anyway.
I'm conflicted about Cat herself. I like her - but I disagree with some of her decisions. I think she should have come clean about her connection to the case immediately. She doesn't because she's trying to protect her dad, but why? She spends most of the book talking about how much she dislikes him! Her entire family dynamic is pretty weird. They have issues.
I really enjoyed the writing of this book. The pacing was excellent - slow enough to absorb each new reveal properly, but fast-paced enough that the action rolls along. Goodreads says the book is "Cat Kinsella #1" implying it's the start of a series. I'll have to keep an eye out for them. For a debut novel, I am impressed at the level of writing, pacing, plot, and characterization. There's a lot of threads in this book that get gathered together at the end and tied up nicely, with only one escaping. That worried me until I discovered it's the beginning of a series; the one loose thread makes sense in that context.
While I didn't like this one quite as much as Goodbye, Paris, it's still another great pick from Book of the Month.
You can find all my reviews at http://goddessinthestacks.com
I'm conflicted about Cat herself. I like her - but I disagree with some of her decisions. I think she should have come clean about her connection to the case immediately. She doesn't because she's trying to protect her dad, but why? She spends most of the book talking about how much she dislikes him! Her entire family dynamic is pretty weird. They have issues.
I really enjoyed the writing of this book. The pacing was excellent - slow enough to absorb each new reveal properly, but fast-paced enough that the action rolls along. Goodreads says the book is "Cat Kinsella #1" implying it's the start of a series. I'll have to keep an eye out for them. For a debut novel, I am impressed at the level of writing, pacing, plot, and characterization. There's a lot of threads in this book that get gathered together at the end and tied up nicely, with only one escaping. That worried me until I discovered it's the beginning of a series; the one loose thread makes sense in that context.
While I didn't like this one quite as much as Goodbye, Paris, it's still another great pick from Book of the Month.
You can find all my reviews at http://goddessinthestacks.com
Sass Perilla (36 KP) rated Frankenstein in Books
Aug 9, 2019
The plot and major themes. (1 more)
Further work it inspired.
Readable, but disjointed and repetitive in parts.
Contains spoilers, click to show
Fundamentally, the problem with this book is the narrator, Victor. He is thoroughly detestable. A selfish, cowardly, irresponsible, excuse ridden, narcissistic d****e-bag of the highest order. And unfortunately, it is Victor Frankenstein’s POV that we are forced into for the majority of the novel.
My hatred for and frustration with the self-pitying, feckless behaviour of the (pseudo)
protagonist made this an irritating read for me- and to an extent I think this was Shelley’s intention. Victor isn’t designed to be the likable, affable, morally “good” man fallen from grace he believes himself to be, and the horrific events that befall those around him are of his making.
However, this doesn’t make him any less grating! The "monster" (to me reminiscent of Caliban with his lyrical speech and enforced isolation, being neither man nor not man) is eloquent and persuasive when he asks his creator to account for his misdoings. So, you’ve got to ask yourself, if an infanticidal, demonic, bag of sew together corpses is actually more engaging than the main storyteller, is that storyteller really the
right character to be telling the story?
Now, with all that said, it is an important book. A work by a female author with strong female characters (albeit background characters) who was only nineteen when she wrote the initial draft. Very impressive. But, for me her youth is evident. When we teach secondary school pupils to write creatively, we often give them the ambiguous instruction “show don’t tell”, and for me the book is more of a list of horrible and horrific events told in a Chinese puzzle box style story within a story, rather than an engaging and “complete” narrative. It feels like she chooses to place focus on the wrong “bits”- for example the whole of chapter nineteen where Victor travels the British Isles, comments briefly on the local architecture of each town and city and
then repetitively reminds us that he couldn’t enjoy the surroundings because of his angst.
And I would have at least like to have seen some of the courtroom drama when Victor is tried for the death of Clerval...
So, I hate to be “that” gal, who poo-poos these fantastic works of fiction (we know they’re great because some clever-britches told us they were) but in all honesty, the novel ain’t that good, and I’ll maintain that stance no matter how clever the britches of the opposing schools of thought.
I think the continuing appeal is in it’s universal themes: parenting, nature versus
nurture; morality and scientific advancement- and the whole idea of stitching a creature out of
corpse-parts and electrocuting it to life is pretty darn cool. And there are some really effective
horror scenes, such as the vignette of Victor ripping apart project lady-monster (I kind wish she had a name- a working title- but given he can’t even be bothered to name monster number one I guess this was all too much to hope for).
It’s readable, but it’s value, for me at any rate, lies in the offshoots and creativity it has spawned, rather than the work itself.
My hatred for and frustration with the self-pitying, feckless behaviour of the (pseudo)
protagonist made this an irritating read for me- and to an extent I think this was Shelley’s intention. Victor isn’t designed to be the likable, affable, morally “good” man fallen from grace he believes himself to be, and the horrific events that befall those around him are of his making.
However, this doesn’t make him any less grating! The "monster" (to me reminiscent of Caliban with his lyrical speech and enforced isolation, being neither man nor not man) is eloquent and persuasive when he asks his creator to account for his misdoings. So, you’ve got to ask yourself, if an infanticidal, demonic, bag of sew together corpses is actually more engaging than the main storyteller, is that storyteller really the
right character to be telling the story?
Now, with all that said, it is an important book. A work by a female author with strong female characters (albeit background characters) who was only nineteen when she wrote the initial draft. Very impressive. But, for me her youth is evident. When we teach secondary school pupils to write creatively, we often give them the ambiguous instruction “show don’t tell”, and for me the book is more of a list of horrible and horrific events told in a Chinese puzzle box style story within a story, rather than an engaging and “complete” narrative. It feels like she chooses to place focus on the wrong “bits”- for example the whole of chapter nineteen where Victor travels the British Isles, comments briefly on the local architecture of each town and city and
then repetitively reminds us that he couldn’t enjoy the surroundings because of his angst.
And I would have at least like to have seen some of the courtroom drama when Victor is tried for the death of Clerval...
So, I hate to be “that” gal, who poo-poos these fantastic works of fiction (we know they’re great because some clever-britches told us they were) but in all honesty, the novel ain’t that good, and I’ll maintain that stance no matter how clever the britches of the opposing schools of thought.
I think the continuing appeal is in it’s universal themes: parenting, nature versus
nurture; morality and scientific advancement- and the whole idea of stitching a creature out of
corpse-parts and electrocuting it to life is pretty darn cool. And there are some really effective
horror scenes, such as the vignette of Victor ripping apart project lady-monster (I kind wish she had a name- a working title- but given he can’t even be bothered to name monster number one I guess this was all too much to hope for).
It’s readable, but it’s value, for me at any rate, lies in the offshoots and creativity it has spawned, rather than the work itself.
Hazel (1853 KP) rated A Piece Of The World in Books
May 30, 2018
I received this book for free through Goodreads First Reads.
Until reading Christina Baker Kline’s note at the end of the book, it is impossible to guess that it is based on real people, although, admittedly, it is a little strange to name the main character after oneself. In fact, A Piece of the World is written around a single painting in the Museum of Modern Art, New York: Christina’s World (1948) by Andrew Wyeth, a man who appears and paints this work in the story.
Baker Cline researched thoroughly into the background story of the painting. Christina Olson, the main character of this book, was a real person who posed for Wyeth as he painted this striking picture. Although the overall story is a work of fiction, the dates and key characters are biographically accurate. Beginning in 1939, the narrative weaves too and fro, from Christina’s present day to her childhood and back again. Christina is an ageing woman who can barely walk and lives in a dilapidated cottage with her brother on a hill in the village of Cushing, Maine. Having lived in this state for so long, it is a welcome surprise to be visited by the young Andrew Wyeth who falls in love with the cottage and regularly comes to work on his canvases in their upper rooms. Through their peaceful relationship and flashbacks to her past, Christina’s character development is investigated and knitted together to explain why she has become this recluse on a hill.
Christina had problems from a very young age. After almost dying from a fever, she developed an undiagnosed degenerative disease that slowly ate away at the nerves in her arms and legs. Today, neurologists believe this to be Charcot-Marie-Tooth disease but there were no doctors able to provide this diagnosis at the time. Christina suffered aches and pains growing up and could barely walk in a straight line. Her determination to keep going is admirable and makes her a strong female protagonist.
One day in her early twenties, Christina meets a boy who pays her the kind of attention that she has never received before. Believing his promises that they will be together forever, she dares to dream of having a normal life. The reader, however, knows that the future Christina is alone with only her brother for company, making it heartbreaking to read of their developing romance knowing that it is not going to last.
There is no “happy-ever-after” to this story, nor is there a sad ending. It is an account of a woman who had been dealt a raw deal in life but continued getting on despite it. The end result, the painting Christina’s World, shows Christina as she sees herself. She may not be able to walk but she is still a woman; she made the most of her childhood, she never complained. This painting is her “letter to the World that never wrote to [Her].”
A Piece of the World is a powerful novel about purpose and determination. Christina may not have had a typical, successful life or become famous but she had her daily achievements: crawling through a field for an hour to visit a friend, cooking dinners despite not being able to stand up, carrying on after the end of a romantic relationship …
Written as gracefully as the brushstrokes of a painting with elements of Emily Dickinson thrown in here and there, A Piece of the World is a beautiful piece of work. It is something that can be enjoyed as you are mentally drawn into the storyline, leaving you wondering what happens to Christina and her brother after the completion of the painting. It is a novel the author can be proud of.
Until reading Christina Baker Kline’s note at the end of the book, it is impossible to guess that it is based on real people, although, admittedly, it is a little strange to name the main character after oneself. In fact, A Piece of the World is written around a single painting in the Museum of Modern Art, New York: Christina’s World (1948) by Andrew Wyeth, a man who appears and paints this work in the story.
Baker Cline researched thoroughly into the background story of the painting. Christina Olson, the main character of this book, was a real person who posed for Wyeth as he painted this striking picture. Although the overall story is a work of fiction, the dates and key characters are biographically accurate. Beginning in 1939, the narrative weaves too and fro, from Christina’s present day to her childhood and back again. Christina is an ageing woman who can barely walk and lives in a dilapidated cottage with her brother on a hill in the village of Cushing, Maine. Having lived in this state for so long, it is a welcome surprise to be visited by the young Andrew Wyeth who falls in love with the cottage and regularly comes to work on his canvases in their upper rooms. Through their peaceful relationship and flashbacks to her past, Christina’s character development is investigated and knitted together to explain why she has become this recluse on a hill.
Christina had problems from a very young age. After almost dying from a fever, she developed an undiagnosed degenerative disease that slowly ate away at the nerves in her arms and legs. Today, neurologists believe this to be Charcot-Marie-Tooth disease but there were no doctors able to provide this diagnosis at the time. Christina suffered aches and pains growing up and could barely walk in a straight line. Her determination to keep going is admirable and makes her a strong female protagonist.
One day in her early twenties, Christina meets a boy who pays her the kind of attention that she has never received before. Believing his promises that they will be together forever, she dares to dream of having a normal life. The reader, however, knows that the future Christina is alone with only her brother for company, making it heartbreaking to read of their developing romance knowing that it is not going to last.
There is no “happy-ever-after” to this story, nor is there a sad ending. It is an account of a woman who had been dealt a raw deal in life but continued getting on despite it. The end result, the painting Christina’s World, shows Christina as she sees herself. She may not be able to walk but she is still a woman; she made the most of her childhood, she never complained. This painting is her “letter to the World that never wrote to [Her].”
A Piece of the World is a powerful novel about purpose and determination. Christina may not have had a typical, successful life or become famous but she had her daily achievements: crawling through a field for an hour to visit a friend, cooking dinners despite not being able to stand up, carrying on after the end of a romantic relationship …
Written as gracefully as the brushstrokes of a painting with elements of Emily Dickinson thrown in here and there, A Piece of the World is a beautiful piece of work. It is something that can be enjoyed as you are mentally drawn into the storyline, leaving you wondering what happens to Christina and her brother after the completion of the painting. It is a novel the author can be proud of.
Hazel (1853 KP) rated A Piece Of The World in Books
Dec 14, 2018
<i>I received this book for free through Goodreads First Reads.</i>
Until reading Christina Baker Kline’s note at the end of the book, it is impossible to guess that it is based on real people, although, admittedly, it is a little strange to name the main character after oneself. In fact, <i>A Piece of the World</i> is written around a single painting in the Museum of Modern Art, New York: <i>Christina’s World</i> (1948) by Andrew Wyeth, a man who appears and paints this work in the story.
Baker Cline researched thoroughly into the background story of the painting. Christina Olson, the main character of this book, was a real person who posed for Wyeth as he painted this striking picture. Although the overall story is a work of fiction, the dates and key characters are biographically accurate. Beginning in 1939, the narrative weaves too and fro, from Christina’s present day to her childhood and back again. Christina is an ageing woman who can barely walk and lives in a dilapidated cottage with her brother on a hill in the village of Cushing, Maine. Having lived in this state for so long, it is a welcome surprise to be visited by the young Andrew Wyeth who falls in love with the cottage and regularly comes to work on his canvases in their upper rooms. Through their peaceful relationship and flashbacks to her past, Christina’s character development is investigated and knitted together to explain why she has become this recluse on a hill.
Christina had problems from a very young age. After almost dying from a fever, she developed an undiagnosed degenerative disease that slowly ate away at the nerves in her arms and legs. Today, neurologists believe this to be <i>Charcot-Marie-Tooth</i> disease but there were no doctors able to provide this diagnosis at the time. Christina suffered aches and pains growing up and could barely walk in a straight line. Her determination to keep going is admirable and makes her a strong female protagonist.
One day in her early twenties, Christina meets a boy who pays her the kind of attention that she has never received before. Believing his promises that they will be together forever, she dares to dream of having a normal life. The reader, however, knows that the future Christina is alone with only her brother for company, making it heartbreaking to read of their developing romance knowing that it is not going to last.
There is no “happy-ever-after” to this story, nor is there a sad ending. It is an account of a woman who had been dealt a raw deal in life but continued getting on despite it. The end result, the painting <i>Christina’s World</i>, shows Christina as she sees herself. She may not be able to walk but she is still a woman; she made the most of her childhood, she never complained. This painting is her “letter to the World that never wrote to [Her].”
<i>A Piece of the World</i> is a powerful novel about purpose and determination. Christina may not have had a typical, successful life or become famous but she had her daily achievements: crawling through a field for an hour to visit a friend, cooking dinners despite not being able to stand up, carrying on after the end of a romantic relationship …
Written as gracefully as the brushstrokes of a painting with elements of Emily Dickinson thrown in here and there, </i>A Piece of the World</i> is a beautiful piece of work. It is something that can be enjoyed as you are mentally drawn into the storyline, leaving you wondering what happens to Christina and her brother after the completion of the painting. It is a novel the author can be proud of.
<imgsrc="https://www.moma.org/media/W1siZiIsIjE2NTQ1NyJdLFsicCIsImNvbnZlcnQiLCItcmVzaXplIDIwMDB4MjAwMFx1MDAzZSJdXQ.jpg?sha=33c151dba7f8de4c"width="100"height="40"alt="ChristinasWorld"/>;
Until reading Christina Baker Kline’s note at the end of the book, it is impossible to guess that it is based on real people, although, admittedly, it is a little strange to name the main character after oneself. In fact, <i>A Piece of the World</i> is written around a single painting in the Museum of Modern Art, New York: <i>Christina’s World</i> (1948) by Andrew Wyeth, a man who appears and paints this work in the story.
Baker Cline researched thoroughly into the background story of the painting. Christina Olson, the main character of this book, was a real person who posed for Wyeth as he painted this striking picture. Although the overall story is a work of fiction, the dates and key characters are biographically accurate. Beginning in 1939, the narrative weaves too and fro, from Christina’s present day to her childhood and back again. Christina is an ageing woman who can barely walk and lives in a dilapidated cottage with her brother on a hill in the village of Cushing, Maine. Having lived in this state for so long, it is a welcome surprise to be visited by the young Andrew Wyeth who falls in love with the cottage and regularly comes to work on his canvases in their upper rooms. Through their peaceful relationship and flashbacks to her past, Christina’s character development is investigated and knitted together to explain why she has become this recluse on a hill.
Christina had problems from a very young age. After almost dying from a fever, she developed an undiagnosed degenerative disease that slowly ate away at the nerves in her arms and legs. Today, neurologists believe this to be <i>Charcot-Marie-Tooth</i> disease but there were no doctors able to provide this diagnosis at the time. Christina suffered aches and pains growing up and could barely walk in a straight line. Her determination to keep going is admirable and makes her a strong female protagonist.
One day in her early twenties, Christina meets a boy who pays her the kind of attention that she has never received before. Believing his promises that they will be together forever, she dares to dream of having a normal life. The reader, however, knows that the future Christina is alone with only her brother for company, making it heartbreaking to read of their developing romance knowing that it is not going to last.
There is no “happy-ever-after” to this story, nor is there a sad ending. It is an account of a woman who had been dealt a raw deal in life but continued getting on despite it. The end result, the painting <i>Christina’s World</i>, shows Christina as she sees herself. She may not be able to walk but she is still a woman; she made the most of her childhood, she never complained. This painting is her “letter to the World that never wrote to [Her].”
<i>A Piece of the World</i> is a powerful novel about purpose and determination. Christina may not have had a typical, successful life or become famous but she had her daily achievements: crawling through a field for an hour to visit a friend, cooking dinners despite not being able to stand up, carrying on after the end of a romantic relationship …
Written as gracefully as the brushstrokes of a painting with elements of Emily Dickinson thrown in here and there, </i>A Piece of the World</i> is a beautiful piece of work. It is something that can be enjoyed as you are mentally drawn into the storyline, leaving you wondering what happens to Christina and her brother after the completion of the painting. It is a novel the author can be proud of.
<imgsrc="https://www.moma.org/media/W1siZiIsIjE2NTQ1NyJdLFsicCIsImNvbnZlcnQiLCItcmVzaXplIDIwMDB4MjAwMFx1MDAzZSJdXQ.jpg?sha=33c151dba7f8de4c"width="100"height="40"alt="ChristinasWorld"/>;
Mothergamer (1565 KP) rated Tales of Vesperia in Video Games
Apr 3, 2019
I finally got done playing Tales Of Vesperia, but I'm not completely done. There's an extra dungeon you can play through at the end of the game if you do a specific side quest during the regular game play through. I've never played a Tales Of game that I didn't like yet and this one was no exception.
I genuinely liked the main character Yuri because he's not a perfect hero. He isn't purely good, but he's not necessarily evil either. It's a matter of he's had to make the hard decisions that others around him are not willing to make, but in the end he's always stayed true to himself and his ideals. I think a lot of the reason why that scenario worked is because of the story line with Yuri's best friend Flynn. Flynn is the other side of the coin, walking a different path, but ultimately the goal to try and make the world a better place is similar.
The idea of blastia technology is interesting and they do explain how it came to be and what it is used for as the game and story progress. It also explains the reasons behind how the empire that controls it came to exist which I thought that the developers did a pretty good job of intertwining with the main story line.
You meet more characters along the way on this adventure and they all have pretty decent back stories. I myself liked Raven's and Judith's in particular. There are of course, the usual skits during game play, but they never get tedious. In fact, some of them are amusing with jokes that are actually funny and add a little more depth to the story and the characters themselves. The anime cut scenes are very well done and great to watch. The musical soundtrack not only is beautiful, but fits well with the various battles and pivotal plot points throughout the story.
There are one or two boss battles that can be a little frustrating because of certain mystic artes attacks, but once you get through them you feel a sense of accomplishment for having won. Of course, if you get too frustrated you do have the option of changing the difficulty level to easy without being penalized for it which is a nice perk. With a myriad of fun extra side quests like getting cafe costumes for all the characters or the cute disguise costumes for the female characters in your party, you get a pleasant break from level grinding and the main story. Overall, the game is a good time and fun to play. Even level grinding in this particular RPG is enjoyable because of a decent battle system, and beautifully designed scenery and enemies. Now, I'm going to get back to playing this extra dungeon I've won. As for all of you, I suggest you pick up Tales Of Vesperia for the Xbox 360 and give it a try. I am sure you will have as much fun as I did playing it.
I genuinely liked the main character Yuri because he's not a perfect hero. He isn't purely good, but he's not necessarily evil either. It's a matter of he's had to make the hard decisions that others around him are not willing to make, but in the end he's always stayed true to himself and his ideals. I think a lot of the reason why that scenario worked is because of the story line with Yuri's best friend Flynn. Flynn is the other side of the coin, walking a different path, but ultimately the goal to try and make the world a better place is similar.
The idea of blastia technology is interesting and they do explain how it came to be and what it is used for as the game and story progress. It also explains the reasons behind how the empire that controls it came to exist which I thought that the developers did a pretty good job of intertwining with the main story line.
You meet more characters along the way on this adventure and they all have pretty decent back stories. I myself liked Raven's and Judith's in particular. There are of course, the usual skits during game play, but they never get tedious. In fact, some of them are amusing with jokes that are actually funny and add a little more depth to the story and the characters themselves. The anime cut scenes are very well done and great to watch. The musical soundtrack not only is beautiful, but fits well with the various battles and pivotal plot points throughout the story.
There are one or two boss battles that can be a little frustrating because of certain mystic artes attacks, but once you get through them you feel a sense of accomplishment for having won. Of course, if you get too frustrated you do have the option of changing the difficulty level to easy without being penalized for it which is a nice perk. With a myriad of fun extra side quests like getting cafe costumes for all the characters or the cute disguise costumes for the female characters in your party, you get a pleasant break from level grinding and the main story. Overall, the game is a good time and fun to play. Even level grinding in this particular RPG is enjoyable because of a decent battle system, and beautifully designed scenery and enemies. Now, I'm going to get back to playing this extra dungeon I've won. As for all of you, I suggest you pick up Tales Of Vesperia for the Xbox 360 and give it a try. I am sure you will have as much fun as I did playing it.
Hazel (1853 KP) rated The Outcasts (Brotherband Chronicles, #1) in Books
Dec 17, 2018
<i>I received this book for free through Goodreads First Reads.</i>
<i>The Outcasts</i> is the first book in the <i>Brotherband Chronicles</i> about teenaged Hal and his small team of misfit friends. Set in times when to be a warrior and be part of a crew on a wooden ship were some of the highest honours, all boys when approaching the age of sixteen have to endure months of exhausting training. The popular boys form together Brotherbands containing the candidates with the most potential leaving Hal and seven other social outcasts to form the final group: the Herons.
Despite their severe disadvantage, Hal must encourage the Herons to use their brains to outwit the strength of the other Brotherbands in order to defeat them at the challenges the instructors set and become the ultimate winners.
Hal is instantly a likeable character. He is talented, intelligent, kind and thoughtful and makes an excellent and inspiring team leader. Although this book is set in a fictional historical period, there are many things that a young reader can relate to, for example bullying and racial discrimination.
As well as the Brotherband training there is a lot of ship and sailing references that may appeal to male readers of a certain age. The author, John Flanagan, realizes that many people today would not be familiar with the ins and outs of sailing and has included a glossary explaining numerous nautical terms that are used during the novel. These are defined in an easy to understand way, as the target audience is those of ages ten and upwards.
There are a limited amount of female characters, which suggests that these chronicles are written with male teenage readers in mind. Despite this it is still an enjoyable, exciting book regardless of your gender. The character developments are excellent and the Herons are an admirable team.
Initially it took a while to get into the story. The reader does not meet Hal until part two of four as it begins twelve years prior to the main timeline. Throughout this section the only characters are adults, which the target audience is less likely to relate to. For this reason, and due to some of the violence, I personally would recommend this book for ages thirteen and older rather than the “10+” suggested on the back cover.
Overall <i>Brotherband: The Outcasts</i> is a brilliant book and it was refreshing for a young adult novel not to revolve around a romantic relationship. The next book in the series looks as promising as the first, which has left us wanting to know more!
<i>The Outcasts</i> is the first book in the <i>Brotherband Chronicles</i> about teenaged Hal and his small team of misfit friends. Set in times when to be a warrior and be part of a crew on a wooden ship were some of the highest honours, all boys when approaching the age of sixteen have to endure months of exhausting training. The popular boys form together Brotherbands containing the candidates with the most potential leaving Hal and seven other social outcasts to form the final group: the Herons.
Despite their severe disadvantage, Hal must encourage the Herons to use their brains to outwit the strength of the other Brotherbands in order to defeat them at the challenges the instructors set and become the ultimate winners.
Hal is instantly a likeable character. He is talented, intelligent, kind and thoughtful and makes an excellent and inspiring team leader. Although this book is set in a fictional historical period, there are many things that a young reader can relate to, for example bullying and racial discrimination.
As well as the Brotherband training there is a lot of ship and sailing references that may appeal to male readers of a certain age. The author, John Flanagan, realizes that many people today would not be familiar with the ins and outs of sailing and has included a glossary explaining numerous nautical terms that are used during the novel. These are defined in an easy to understand way, as the target audience is those of ages ten and upwards.
There are a limited amount of female characters, which suggests that these chronicles are written with male teenage readers in mind. Despite this it is still an enjoyable, exciting book regardless of your gender. The character developments are excellent and the Herons are an admirable team.
Initially it took a while to get into the story. The reader does not meet Hal until part two of four as it begins twelve years prior to the main timeline. Throughout this section the only characters are adults, which the target audience is less likely to relate to. For this reason, and due to some of the violence, I personally would recommend this book for ages thirteen and older rather than the “10+” suggested on the back cover.
Overall <i>Brotherband: The Outcasts</i> is a brilliant book and it was refreshing for a young adult novel not to revolve around a romantic relationship. The next book in the series looks as promising as the first, which has left us wanting to know more!
Goddess in the Stacks (553 KP) rated The Female Persuasion in Books
May 8, 2018
The Female Persuasion was billed as a feminist novel, and in some ways it is, but we all agreed it's not REALLY about feminism. The main character, Greer, works for a feminist foundation, but you could have changed what the foundation's purpose was, or made her work for a corporation, and the essence of the book would have been exactly the same. It was only tangentially about feminism. It was about women supporting each other, though, and the mentor relationship between an older woman and a younger woman, so in some ways, yes. If I was asked to make a list of books about feminism, though, it certainly wouldn't make the cut.
All of the characters have some major flaws. Greer is selfish, and doesn't understand when things don't go according to plan. Cory's life gets entirely derailed by a tragedy he couldn't prevent, but in some ways he lets the derailment happen. If he'd really wanted what he said he wanted (and perhaps he didn't) he could have fixed his trajectory. Zee is a little brash and headstrong, but the most likable character in the book. Faith - oh, Faith. Faith is the older feminist mentor who turns out to be far more jaded than expected.
I have lots of conflicts about Faith. She is one of those feminists who doesn't seem to care for individual women - she can't even remember most of the women who credit her with changing their lives - but she keeps her eyes on the big picture. And as I brought up in book club, the movement does need people who see the big picture. Those people are important - but they still need certain principles that I think Faith lacks.
IR mentioned that Cory was a good foil to all the female characters in the book, and he needed his flaws, because otherwise he would be the perfect feminist boyfriend. And no one is perfect.
We were all a little disappointed with the ending; it felt like Wolitzer skipped a whole section of the story. How did Greer get from point A to point B? (Well, really, it's more like the book covers Points A, B, C, and E. And skips D.)
I think one of my favorite quotes from the book (I misattributed it to Faith at the book club, it turns out it came from Greer) was the one about being given permission:
"I think that's what the people who change our lives always do. They give us permission to be the person we secretly really long to be but maybe don't feel we're allowed to be. Many of you here in this room.....had someone like that, didn't you? Someone who gave you permission. Someone who saw you and heard you. Heard your voice."
I think that really sums up mentorship, in some ways. Women are often still socialized to not trust their own instincts, to lean on outside opinions for validation. (I know I was.) To be given permission and encouragement to trust yourself can be a life-changing event.
I really enjoyed this book. I saw bits of myself in all four characters - Faith's practicality, Greer's impressionability, Zee's idealism, and even a little of Cory's foggy despair and lack of ambition. I wouldn't call it a feminist classic. But it was a good book.
To see all my reviews (and my experience at the Barnes & Noble Book Club event where we talked about this book!) go to http://goddessinthestacks.wordpress.com
All of the characters have some major flaws. Greer is selfish, and doesn't understand when things don't go according to plan. Cory's life gets entirely derailed by a tragedy he couldn't prevent, but in some ways he lets the derailment happen. If he'd really wanted what he said he wanted (and perhaps he didn't) he could have fixed his trajectory. Zee is a little brash and headstrong, but the most likable character in the book. Faith - oh, Faith. Faith is the older feminist mentor who turns out to be far more jaded than expected.
I have lots of conflicts about Faith. She is one of those feminists who doesn't seem to care for individual women - she can't even remember most of the women who credit her with changing their lives - but she keeps her eyes on the big picture. And as I brought up in book club, the movement does need people who see the big picture. Those people are important - but they still need certain principles that I think Faith lacks.
IR mentioned that Cory was a good foil to all the female characters in the book, and he needed his flaws, because otherwise he would be the perfect feminist boyfriend. And no one is perfect.
We were all a little disappointed with the ending; it felt like Wolitzer skipped a whole section of the story. How did Greer get from point A to point B? (Well, really, it's more like the book covers Points A, B, C, and E. And skips D.)
I think one of my favorite quotes from the book (I misattributed it to Faith at the book club, it turns out it came from Greer) was the one about being given permission:
"I think that's what the people who change our lives always do. They give us permission to be the person we secretly really long to be but maybe don't feel we're allowed to be. Many of you here in this room.....had someone like that, didn't you? Someone who gave you permission. Someone who saw you and heard you. Heard your voice."
I think that really sums up mentorship, in some ways. Women are often still socialized to not trust their own instincts, to lean on outside opinions for validation. (I know I was.) To be given permission and encouragement to trust yourself can be a life-changing event.
I really enjoyed this book. I saw bits of myself in all four characters - Faith's practicality, Greer's impressionability, Zee's idealism, and even a little of Cory's foggy despair and lack of ambition. I wouldn't call it a feminist classic. But it was a good book.
To see all my reviews (and my experience at the Barnes & Noble Book Club event where we talked about this book!) go to http://goddessinthestacks.wordpress.com
Jamie (131 KP) rated The Darkest Lies in Books
Jul 26, 2017
Believable plot regarding child abduction (1 more)
The mystery is compelling
Frustrating protagonist, (2 more)
Extremely predictable
Good case for why civilians shouldn’t go rogue and get in the way of police work
A frustrating abduction mystery
You know that age in every teenager’s life where they start to become a little bit rebellious? Telling little white lies, sneaking out, hanging out with crowds they know the family wouldn’t approve of? It can be a scary time for parents, who knows who’s out there? The Darkest Lies is every parent’s worst nightmare and follows a mother who finds her world shattered when her daughter goes missing.
I’m going to come right out and say that this book was frustrating for me. The synopsis really caught my eye and the idea for the plot is intriguing. Unfortunately, issues with the protagonist as well as a shaky and highly predictable plot made for a mediocre experience.
The narration in this book was a little bit weird and I had a hard time getting used to it. It is primarily told using first person point of view though switches regularly to second person as Melanie speaks directly to Beth in her inner monologue. It was just uncomfortable to read.
What’s so bad about first person point of view? See the issue for me with first person narration is that it’s easy to end up alienating readers if it’s difficult to relate to the narrator, and boy did I dislike Melanie. To be blunt, she was really annoying. She was self-centered, mean-spirited, often blinded by her own hubris, and near the end has a bit of a messiah complex going which I found completely ridiculous. She was constantly complaining about the police’s incompetence, throwing herself in the way of the investigation despite being asked multiple times to back off before she could destroy their leads. “I couldn’t go home. I was too furious, too desperate to prove I was right and the police were wrong.”
I get it, she’s consumed with guilt and grief over what happened to her daughter, over not being able to protect her. Desperate people tend to lash out and do stupid things, but I just couldn’t believe anyone would be so foolish. Melanie’s antics do lead up to something important in the plot, but honestly she didn’t need any help making a fool of herself. Before all the crazy came out she was constantly breaking down every female character she encountered, often focusing in on their looks and finding ways to insult them. Neighbors, police officers working on the case, teenagers, it didn’t matter. There are numerous examples of Melanie exhibiting this jealous personality throughout the course of the book.
She spends more time going on drunken rampages pointing fingers at everyone in town, harassing the police, treating her husband like garbage while emotionally cheating with a friend, and avoiding actually seeing and being there for her daughter. While her awful actions over the course of the book is an important aspect of the plot, I just couldn’t justify it because she never learns and remains stubborn even after being told off multiple times. Add on top how stereotypically reckless she acts at the end instead of seeking help from the police because of course she doesn’t need them and I just couldn’t dig the story.
I liked the central idea around the dangers of teens sneaking out and trusting strangers, but the story meandered so much it kind of gets lost in Melanie’s mental collapse and crazed search for the culprit. The plot attempts to use some misdirection to keep the reader guessing but the construction was just sloppy, and the actual culprit isn’t even the character that Melanie cares about the most. Every “bad” character is so blatantly obvious that the advertised twist is really easy to see. I kept on reading because I wanted to know the how and the why. I think there was potential here, and if the author wanted to stick to the narrative that Mel is actually really nice and is just being manipulated then why does she remain every bit as petty and controlling? She is still unable to see past her own emotions and unable to learn from her mistakes. I wished that this could’ve ended with more character growth for the main character.
I’m going to come right out and say that this book was frustrating for me. The synopsis really caught my eye and the idea for the plot is intriguing. Unfortunately, issues with the protagonist as well as a shaky and highly predictable plot made for a mediocre experience.
The narration in this book was a little bit weird and I had a hard time getting used to it. It is primarily told using first person point of view though switches regularly to second person as Melanie speaks directly to Beth in her inner monologue. It was just uncomfortable to read.
What’s so bad about first person point of view? See the issue for me with first person narration is that it’s easy to end up alienating readers if it’s difficult to relate to the narrator, and boy did I dislike Melanie. To be blunt, she was really annoying. She was self-centered, mean-spirited, often blinded by her own hubris, and near the end has a bit of a messiah complex going which I found completely ridiculous. She was constantly complaining about the police’s incompetence, throwing herself in the way of the investigation despite being asked multiple times to back off before she could destroy their leads. “I couldn’t go home. I was too furious, too desperate to prove I was right and the police were wrong.”
I get it, she’s consumed with guilt and grief over what happened to her daughter, over not being able to protect her. Desperate people tend to lash out and do stupid things, but I just couldn’t believe anyone would be so foolish. Melanie’s antics do lead up to something important in the plot, but honestly she didn’t need any help making a fool of herself. Before all the crazy came out she was constantly breaking down every female character she encountered, often focusing in on their looks and finding ways to insult them. Neighbors, police officers working on the case, teenagers, it didn’t matter. There are numerous examples of Melanie exhibiting this jealous personality throughout the course of the book.
She spends more time going on drunken rampages pointing fingers at everyone in town, harassing the police, treating her husband like garbage while emotionally cheating with a friend, and avoiding actually seeing and being there for her daughter. While her awful actions over the course of the book is an important aspect of the plot, I just couldn’t justify it because she never learns and remains stubborn even after being told off multiple times. Add on top how stereotypically reckless she acts at the end instead of seeking help from the police because of course she doesn’t need them and I just couldn’t dig the story.
I liked the central idea around the dangers of teens sneaking out and trusting strangers, but the story meandered so much it kind of gets lost in Melanie’s mental collapse and crazed search for the culprit. The plot attempts to use some misdirection to keep the reader guessing but the construction was just sloppy, and the actual culprit isn’t even the character that Melanie cares about the most. Every “bad” character is so blatantly obvious that the advertised twist is really easy to see. I kept on reading because I wanted to know the how and the why. I think there was potential here, and if the author wanted to stick to the narrative that Mel is actually really nice and is just being manipulated then why does she remain every bit as petty and controlling? She is still unable to see past her own emotions and unable to learn from her mistakes. I wished that this could’ve ended with more character growth for the main character.
Joe Wright’s 2011 film version of Hanna starring Saoirse Ronan, Cate Blanchett and Eric Bana is an odd movie. It isn’t bad. It just doesn’t work. The idea at its heart is great, as are some of the action sequences, there is just something over styled about it that is jarring. I’ve been back to it a few times to see if age helps, but it really doesn’t – Hanna the movie is an admirable failure.
So when Amazon announced they were resurrecting the character, the basic story and idea and the essential vibe of Hanna in 2019 as a series… I was pretty sceptical. I doubt to this day I would have watched it at all if I hadn’t stumbled across the trailer and been arrested by the presence of this young girl who had been cast in the main role. She looked wild and vulnerable at the same time, her eyes were piercing and something about her was just jumping off the screen. I went to IMDb as is my habit to find out who she was. Turns out her name was Esme Creed-Miles, the daughter of actors Samantha Morton and Charlie Creed-Miles.
Wow, yes, that made sense! I love Samantha Morton in anything – have done ever since she played Joanne Barnes in Cracker, aged 17. She has a ferocious beauty and edge of danger about her that is entirely feminine but also fearlessly strong and individual. Her roles have always been diverse, because she is capable of total power or intense vulnerability, sometimes in the same character, all laced with a focused intelligence that is quite rare. So, I had basically seen all of that in a two minute trailer staring a chip off the old block. Now I was excited to see it!
I wouldn’t say the set up of season one blew me away, but it did have enough going for it to keep me watching. Not as a binge watch, which usually indicates how much I am into something, but for sure as a steady desire to come back for more in time. Joel Kinnaman made a decent replacement as Erik, the father figure who teaches Hanna to survive, and Mireille Enos was doing a lovely job in the Cate Blanchett role as an ambiguous villain / ally. But it was all about Esme Creed-Miles, who was consistently delivering a performance of mesmerising quality – I could not take my eyes off her. As with the character she was playing there was some learning to be done in understanding the rules of this world, but she had obviously been trained well by a parent with huge experience in these things.
Season one ends with a tantalising cliffhanger, and there didn’t seem to be much of a wait to get back into it in season two, which felt more assured and more mature from the start. It came to me at a weird time in lockdown where I had no internet or means to watch anything I hadn’t downloaded already, which was a handful of films I’d already seen and season two of Hanna. I ended up watching each episode at least three times each, sometimes in a row, and sometimes going back… it just became a real companion to me in an odd way. I got hooked on it in a way I would find hard to describe – sometimes a show does that to us, even when objectively we know it isn’t the best, or most original, thing ever made.
It isn’t badly made by any means, but it is perhaps a little predictable at times. It has a high production standard, but still feels very much like TV and not a feature film in episodes. The action choreography is always great, as is the overall story arch. What is perhaps a little lacking is consistently strong dialogue, directing and supporting acting, especially when the cast of season two depends on a lot of teenagers, none of which have half the natural ability of Creed-Miles.
My main feeling about Hanna is to state I really enjoyed it, without overstating that it is any kind of genius, or is treading any new artistic ground. It is just a solid entertainment worth the time, and I will definitely be looking forward to season three. The entire project has a strong female core, and that is worth seeing in 2021. I suspect the main thing watching this will bring, however, is the genesis of a future superstar. Mark my words – Esme Creed-Miles just turned 21 and the film world is ready for the next Emma Stone, Jennifer Lawrence or… Samantha Morton.
So when Amazon announced they were resurrecting the character, the basic story and idea and the essential vibe of Hanna in 2019 as a series… I was pretty sceptical. I doubt to this day I would have watched it at all if I hadn’t stumbled across the trailer and been arrested by the presence of this young girl who had been cast in the main role. She looked wild and vulnerable at the same time, her eyes were piercing and something about her was just jumping off the screen. I went to IMDb as is my habit to find out who she was. Turns out her name was Esme Creed-Miles, the daughter of actors Samantha Morton and Charlie Creed-Miles.
Wow, yes, that made sense! I love Samantha Morton in anything – have done ever since she played Joanne Barnes in Cracker, aged 17. She has a ferocious beauty and edge of danger about her that is entirely feminine but also fearlessly strong and individual. Her roles have always been diverse, because she is capable of total power or intense vulnerability, sometimes in the same character, all laced with a focused intelligence that is quite rare. So, I had basically seen all of that in a two minute trailer staring a chip off the old block. Now I was excited to see it!
I wouldn’t say the set up of season one blew me away, but it did have enough going for it to keep me watching. Not as a binge watch, which usually indicates how much I am into something, but for sure as a steady desire to come back for more in time. Joel Kinnaman made a decent replacement as Erik, the father figure who teaches Hanna to survive, and Mireille Enos was doing a lovely job in the Cate Blanchett role as an ambiguous villain / ally. But it was all about Esme Creed-Miles, who was consistently delivering a performance of mesmerising quality – I could not take my eyes off her. As with the character she was playing there was some learning to be done in understanding the rules of this world, but she had obviously been trained well by a parent with huge experience in these things.
Season one ends with a tantalising cliffhanger, and there didn’t seem to be much of a wait to get back into it in season two, which felt more assured and more mature from the start. It came to me at a weird time in lockdown where I had no internet or means to watch anything I hadn’t downloaded already, which was a handful of films I’d already seen and season two of Hanna. I ended up watching each episode at least three times each, sometimes in a row, and sometimes going back… it just became a real companion to me in an odd way. I got hooked on it in a way I would find hard to describe – sometimes a show does that to us, even when objectively we know it isn’t the best, or most original, thing ever made.
It isn’t badly made by any means, but it is perhaps a little predictable at times. It has a high production standard, but still feels very much like TV and not a feature film in episodes. The action choreography is always great, as is the overall story arch. What is perhaps a little lacking is consistently strong dialogue, directing and supporting acting, especially when the cast of season two depends on a lot of teenagers, none of which have half the natural ability of Creed-Miles.
My main feeling about Hanna is to state I really enjoyed it, without overstating that it is any kind of genius, or is treading any new artistic ground. It is just a solid entertainment worth the time, and I will definitely be looking forward to season three. The entire project has a strong female core, and that is worth seeing in 2021. I suspect the main thing watching this will bring, however, is the genesis of a future superstar. Mark my words – Esme Creed-Miles just turned 21 and the film world is ready for the next Emma Stone, Jennifer Lawrence or… Samantha Morton.
Gotham is the kind of show where I wonder whether they tried to save money by just having the interns write the script. It's got that stilted, on-the-nose kind of dialogue that makes me just feel bad for the actors. For a while I thought the quality of the writing varied from scene to scene, but it was really just that a certain few actors (those that play Fish Mooney, Ed Nygma, and Harvey Bullock spring to mind) that were able to transcend the material they were working with, while others struggled and some just seemed to give up.
Season one starts off promisingly enough for a superhero themed crime show. The premise is solid - we get to watch how these superheroes and supervillians come to be. And that is really the draw that keeps me watching - the character driven moments where we see Nygma descend into madness, the Penguin rise through the ranks of the underworld, Mooney wrestle to keep control of her little patch of Gotham. The conflict James Gordon faces in the first season - a Lawful Good character up against rampant, insidious, and impossible to root up corruption throughout every level of Gotham's government is genuinely interesting and feels like a relevant emotional thread that keeps you going through all of the schlocky and improbable events. All three seasons seem to have a firm grasp of their season plot arc and tentpole moments, setting up the next season nicely for whatever main villain and evil will be explored, but I feel like the tone of the show has shifted wildly. The show can't decide if it's gritty or campy, whether it's a comic book or a crime procedural. It handwaves technology and superpowers in a way that fails to establish in-world rules or limitations. So every super power is all-powerful until plot convenient. I also just personally hate the third season "blood virus" arc and the non-canonical Mad Hatter who speaks in rhyming couplets.
Speaking of which, I'd love to tell the writers that a mass of contradictory, plot-convenient impulses does not a strong female character make. Barbara Kean's story arc makes absolutely no sense. Lee Thompkins seems only to exist to push Gordon to do things he wouldn't otherwise, and Selina Kyle is easily swapped out with every spunky street urchin ever.
I almost want to be offended that every single queer character is, or ends up being, a baddie, but honestly I think that's probably just because the antagonists are more interesting and fleshed out characters to begin with. Still, there's some serious issues with representation (shocker). The third season introduces a really icky variant of the Born Sexy Yesterday trope (watch the video by the Pop Culture Detective, it's worth it.)
Still, I think the casting is pretty great, acting ability aside. The costuming is good, although everything is hampered by the show's refusal to nail down any sort of time period. The dream sequences in the first two seasons are beautiful. I love Oswald Cobblepot and Ed Nygma, and I'd love to see the actor who plays Bruce Wayne master more than just his admittedly very good "holding back tears" expression.
If you're looking for something campy, if you like your villians and your superheroes, and if you need something to watch while you fold laundry or go to sleep, I would recommend this show. It's a show that thrives on tired old tropes, but it lifts those tropes from its source material, so fans of comics might enjoy it, or might be aggrieved at the retconning of beloved old character's backstories.
Whatever you do, don't call Nymga insane. He's better now. He has a certificate.
Season one starts off promisingly enough for a superhero themed crime show. The premise is solid - we get to watch how these superheroes and supervillians come to be. And that is really the draw that keeps me watching - the character driven moments where we see Nygma descend into madness, the Penguin rise through the ranks of the underworld, Mooney wrestle to keep control of her little patch of Gotham. The conflict James Gordon faces in the first season - a Lawful Good character up against rampant, insidious, and impossible to root up corruption throughout every level of Gotham's government is genuinely interesting and feels like a relevant emotional thread that keeps you going through all of the schlocky and improbable events. All three seasons seem to have a firm grasp of their season plot arc and tentpole moments, setting up the next season nicely for whatever main villain and evil will be explored, but I feel like the tone of the show has shifted wildly. The show can't decide if it's gritty or campy, whether it's a comic book or a crime procedural. It handwaves technology and superpowers in a way that fails to establish in-world rules or limitations. So every super power is all-powerful until plot convenient. I also just personally hate the third season "blood virus" arc and the non-canonical Mad Hatter who speaks in rhyming couplets.
Speaking of which, I'd love to tell the writers that a mass of contradictory, plot-convenient impulses does not a strong female character make. Barbara Kean's story arc makes absolutely no sense. Lee Thompkins seems only to exist to push Gordon to do things he wouldn't otherwise, and Selina Kyle is easily swapped out with every spunky street urchin ever.
I almost want to be offended that every single queer character is, or ends up being, a baddie, but honestly I think that's probably just because the antagonists are more interesting and fleshed out characters to begin with. Still, there's some serious issues with representation (shocker). The third season introduces a really icky variant of the Born Sexy Yesterday trope (watch the video by the Pop Culture Detective, it's worth it.)
Still, I think the casting is pretty great, acting ability aside. The costuming is good, although everything is hampered by the show's refusal to nail down any sort of time period. The dream sequences in the first two seasons are beautiful. I love Oswald Cobblepot and Ed Nygma, and I'd love to see the actor who plays Bruce Wayne master more than just his admittedly very good "holding back tears" expression.
If you're looking for something campy, if you like your villians and your superheroes, and if you need something to watch while you fold laundry or go to sleep, I would recommend this show. It's a show that thrives on tired old tropes, but it lifts those tropes from its source material, so fans of comics might enjoy it, or might be aggrieved at the retconning of beloved old character's backstories.
Whatever you do, don't call Nymga insane. He's better now. He has a certificate.