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Mandy and G.D. Burkhead (26 KP) rated Sir Apropos of Nothing in Books
May 20, 2018
Shelf Life – Sir Apropos of Nothing Skewers the Hero’s Journey
Contains spoilers, click to show
Fantasy and satire are two of my favorite genres in any medium, but especially so in books. Satirical fantasy, then, holds a special place on my shelves. I grew up on Sir Terry Pratchett’s Discworld series, and desire to imitate him and his style is what led me in middle school to begin writing in earnest, for fun, and for myself rather than just for my teachers and their assignments.
So when I picked up Sir Apropos of Nothing, I did so based on the title pun and the back-of-the-book synopsis that promised “a berserk phoenix, murderous unicorns, mutated harpies, homicidal warrior kings, and – most problematic of all – a princess who may or may not be a psychotic arsonist.” I expected another lighthearted riff on the familiar archetypes. Murderous unicorns? Unicorns are not typically described as such! Oh teehee, how unexpectedly humorous!
Sir Apropos of Nothing is a satirical fantasy, just like it promised, though at times it’s hard to tell how much of the story is played for laughs and how much is played straight. See, the thing about satire that’s easy to forget at times is that it’s not synonymous with buffoonery. Make no mistake – Apropos is a funny book, full of witty dialogue and groan-inducing puns. It’s a book that takes great delight in lampshading traditional fantasy tropes and archetypes, as well as the entirety of Joseph Campbell’s Hero’s Journey idea. But it is not always a silly lampshade; sometimes a cliche or trope is pointed out to have its inherit ridiculousness laughed at, and sometimes it is pointed out because it is causing real and lasting pain or damage, either to the society in which it is set or, more often, to the titular Apropos himself and his ever-degrading esteem of both the people around him and himself.
The tone, at first, is hard to pin down. The story starts in media res with the main character being caught by a knight while in mid-coitus with that knight’s wife and escalates from there. The second chapter opens with a fourth wall-breaking narrative admission by Apropos himself that this was done with the express purpose of catching your attention, and now we’re going back to cover Apropos’s childhood, which ends up being equal parts dark, tragic, punny, and conveniently trope-filled – all of which Apropos, as narrator, approaches with the same resigned, blasé outlook.
If this sounds a bit jarring, well, it kind of is. Early on, I wasn’t sure what to think of where the story was trying to go or what I was expected to feel about it. After the first turn from cliché to dark and visceral to light and punny, all within a few pages, I caught myself thinking, “Crap, is this book gonna try and mix goofy jokes with serious drama and thoughtful moral quandary?”
The answer is yes. And it pulls it off fantastically.
This is due in large part to the interesting depths of the antihero, Apropos, who seems to be so named purely for the joke in the title. In Apropos we see a deep sense of justice and rightness that is entirely eclipsed by an even deeper cynicism and an unshakeable instinct for self-preservation. His life is objectively terrible, but rather than brood and lament, he adjusts. He keeps his head down when he can, weathers abuse when he can’t, and learns to deal with the constant shit storm, all the while bottling his growing anger and resentment at a world that would allow such amounts of suffering and hypocrisy to go unchecked. The fact that he himself becomes a selfish, hypocritical, and generally awful person is not lost on him, and the result is a flawed, unheroic, pathetic coward of a protagonist, a magnificently multifaceted bastard who doesn’t spare even himself from his vast and withering contempt.
And it’s a blast. It really is. Apropos is refreshingly pragmatic and unabashedly pessimistic, a welcome change from the typical righteous-yet-humble heroes of traditional fantasy, or even the loveable and untalented everyman in over his head of traditional fantasy spoofs. Despite a portentous birthmark (on his ass, no less) and beginnings that are not “humble” so much as “poverty of the dirtiest kind,” Apropos is everything a hero should not be short of outright evil.
And this, as it turns out, is entirely the point. This is where the satire, funny or otherwise, really shines through. This is the crux that elevates Sir Apropos of Nothing from a generically self-aware fantasy story to an original and memorable subversion of storytelling as a whole.
Without giving too much away, there comes a point in the plot where Apropos realizes that the events surrounding his miserable life are part of a heroic tale that has been preordained by Fate and is now being epically written out by Destiny. And despite his birthmark, his tragic past, and his mother’s constant reassurances that he has some sort of great destiny hovering over him, he is not the hero. He is only a minor character. A walk-on role on the hero’s stage. A brief pit-stop along the hero’s journey. An NPC whose dreams, desires, and continued existence are so far below importance to the story as to be utterly negligible.
And once this finally clicks with him, he violently, brazenly rebels against it. He gives an emphatic middle finger to Fate’s ideas and sets about making Destiny sit up and take notice of him again. He momentarily and violently overcomes his own abject cowardice just long enough to find a way to completely wreck the traditional heroic ballad in which he lives, all on the basis that, dammit, the world owes him more than this, and nobody should be so miserably cursed as to live their entire life as a foil character.
At this point in my own reading, I didn’t know whether to cheer him on or worry about the repercussions of his actions, because he doesn’t suddenly become heroic when this happens. He’s exactly as much of a selfish, lying bastard as before, and however bad you feel for him, you can completely understand why he was never cast for this role in the first place. Add to this the complete disregard of the author for following what seems to be the obvious progression of events in favor of twists that take you completely by surprise, but still make complete sense and arise organically from the story itself, and you eventually give up thinking that you have any sense of where the story’s going or how any event is going to play out. From beginning to end, it feeds you familiar ideas and then completely subverts them, introduces clichés and then proceeds to tear them apart, and you laugh and pity and feel something the entire way through.
In short, Sir Apropos of Nothing is a book that will keep you turning page after page – not necessarily because of the gripping drama (although it has that) or because of any breezy humor (although it has that too), or because the narration itself oozes suspense (although it often does), but because, with the rapid infusion of new and creative ideas and the hidden depths of character constantly bubbling to the surface in everyone involved, you honestly never know what’s going to happen next. If you like fantasy and can stand to have your expectations messed with, Apropos is certainly apropos.
So when I picked up Sir Apropos of Nothing, I did so based on the title pun and the back-of-the-book synopsis that promised “a berserk phoenix, murderous unicorns, mutated harpies, homicidal warrior kings, and – most problematic of all – a princess who may or may not be a psychotic arsonist.” I expected another lighthearted riff on the familiar archetypes. Murderous unicorns? Unicorns are not typically described as such! Oh teehee, how unexpectedly humorous!
Sir Apropos of Nothing is a satirical fantasy, just like it promised, though at times it’s hard to tell how much of the story is played for laughs and how much is played straight. See, the thing about satire that’s easy to forget at times is that it’s not synonymous with buffoonery. Make no mistake – Apropos is a funny book, full of witty dialogue and groan-inducing puns. It’s a book that takes great delight in lampshading traditional fantasy tropes and archetypes, as well as the entirety of Joseph Campbell’s Hero’s Journey idea. But it is not always a silly lampshade; sometimes a cliche or trope is pointed out to have its inherit ridiculousness laughed at, and sometimes it is pointed out because it is causing real and lasting pain or damage, either to the society in which it is set or, more often, to the titular Apropos himself and his ever-degrading esteem of both the people around him and himself.
The tone, at first, is hard to pin down. The story starts in media res with the main character being caught by a knight while in mid-coitus with that knight’s wife and escalates from there. The second chapter opens with a fourth wall-breaking narrative admission by Apropos himself that this was done with the express purpose of catching your attention, and now we’re going back to cover Apropos’s childhood, which ends up being equal parts dark, tragic, punny, and conveniently trope-filled – all of which Apropos, as narrator, approaches with the same resigned, blasé outlook.
If this sounds a bit jarring, well, it kind of is. Early on, I wasn’t sure what to think of where the story was trying to go or what I was expected to feel about it. After the first turn from cliché to dark and visceral to light and punny, all within a few pages, I caught myself thinking, “Crap, is this book gonna try and mix goofy jokes with serious drama and thoughtful moral quandary?”
The answer is yes. And it pulls it off fantastically.
This is due in large part to the interesting depths of the antihero, Apropos, who seems to be so named purely for the joke in the title. In Apropos we see a deep sense of justice and rightness that is entirely eclipsed by an even deeper cynicism and an unshakeable instinct for self-preservation. His life is objectively terrible, but rather than brood and lament, he adjusts. He keeps his head down when he can, weathers abuse when he can’t, and learns to deal with the constant shit storm, all the while bottling his growing anger and resentment at a world that would allow such amounts of suffering and hypocrisy to go unchecked. The fact that he himself becomes a selfish, hypocritical, and generally awful person is not lost on him, and the result is a flawed, unheroic, pathetic coward of a protagonist, a magnificently multifaceted bastard who doesn’t spare even himself from his vast and withering contempt.
And it’s a blast. It really is. Apropos is refreshingly pragmatic and unabashedly pessimistic, a welcome change from the typical righteous-yet-humble heroes of traditional fantasy, or even the loveable and untalented everyman in over his head of traditional fantasy spoofs. Despite a portentous birthmark (on his ass, no less) and beginnings that are not “humble” so much as “poverty of the dirtiest kind,” Apropos is everything a hero should not be short of outright evil.
And this, as it turns out, is entirely the point. This is where the satire, funny or otherwise, really shines through. This is the crux that elevates Sir Apropos of Nothing from a generically self-aware fantasy story to an original and memorable subversion of storytelling as a whole.
Without giving too much away, there comes a point in the plot where Apropos realizes that the events surrounding his miserable life are part of a heroic tale that has been preordained by Fate and is now being epically written out by Destiny. And despite his birthmark, his tragic past, and his mother’s constant reassurances that he has some sort of great destiny hovering over him, he is not the hero. He is only a minor character. A walk-on role on the hero’s stage. A brief pit-stop along the hero’s journey. An NPC whose dreams, desires, and continued existence are so far below importance to the story as to be utterly negligible.
And once this finally clicks with him, he violently, brazenly rebels against it. He gives an emphatic middle finger to Fate’s ideas and sets about making Destiny sit up and take notice of him again. He momentarily and violently overcomes his own abject cowardice just long enough to find a way to completely wreck the traditional heroic ballad in which he lives, all on the basis that, dammit, the world owes him more than this, and nobody should be so miserably cursed as to live their entire life as a foil character.
At this point in my own reading, I didn’t know whether to cheer him on or worry about the repercussions of his actions, because he doesn’t suddenly become heroic when this happens. He’s exactly as much of a selfish, lying bastard as before, and however bad you feel for him, you can completely understand why he was never cast for this role in the first place. Add to this the complete disregard of the author for following what seems to be the obvious progression of events in favor of twists that take you completely by surprise, but still make complete sense and arise organically from the story itself, and you eventually give up thinking that you have any sense of where the story’s going or how any event is going to play out. From beginning to end, it feeds you familiar ideas and then completely subverts them, introduces clichés and then proceeds to tear them apart, and you laugh and pity and feel something the entire way through.
In short, Sir Apropos of Nothing is a book that will keep you turning page after page – not necessarily because of the gripping drama (although it has that) or because of any breezy humor (although it has that too), or because the narration itself oozes suspense (although it often does), but because, with the rapid infusion of new and creative ideas and the hidden depths of character constantly bubbling to the surface in everyone involved, you honestly never know what’s going to happen next. If you like fantasy and can stand to have your expectations messed with, Apropos is certainly apropos.
Hazel (1853 KP) rated The Treatment in Books
Sep 28, 2017
One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest for Teens
This ARC was provided by the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review
You have to help me. We’re not being reformed. We’re being brainwashed. When sixteen-year-old Drew Finch receives this note from a strange woman on the street claiming to be her brother’s psychologist, she does not know how to react. But when a speeding car hits the doctor immediately after, Drew begins to think something portentous is afoot. In The Treatment by C. L. Taylor, the Residential Reform Academy in Northumberland is achieving great things, turning antisocial teenagers into model citizens. Mason, Drew’s brother, has been expelled from three different schools and has been sent to the academy as a last resort, however, Drew now suspects that Mason is in trouble.
In a slightly dystopian setting, Drew, a usually quiet girl, easily gets herself admitted to the academy by punching the school bully. With the intention of helping Mason escape, Drew calmly arrives at the Academy, not realising how much danger she is placing herself in. She soon discovers that this would not be a transitory admission and, unless she escapes, she will become like all the other narcotised students.
Trying to remain fastidious whilst avoiding garrulous roommates and staff, Drew desperately tries to concoct an escape plan, however, she may be too late. The more she learns about the Residential Reform Academy, the more she discovers about the evil intentions behind it. How can she break out of the prison-like building and seek help when the government is deeply involved with the whole sordid procedure?
C. L. Taylor devises an exciting scenario that will appeal to fans of Cecelia Ahern’s Flawed and Kazuo Ishiguro’s Never Let Me Go. A thriller that needs a hero in the unlikely form of a teenage girl, The Treatment is a stimulating story about those without a public voice overthrowing the immoral experiments of the dastards in power.
A One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest for teenagers, this book deals with themes of mental health, oppression and the misuse of authority. Told from the perspective of a girl who has been bullied most of her life and coming from a dysfunctional family, there is a lot for the reader to connect with. Although it does not allay the growing fears of governmental conspiracies, The Treatment ends with the positive message that by standing up to those who do you wrong has its rewards, not only for yourself but for those in similar situations too.
The Treatment is a very enjoyable book that pulls the reader into the story, causing them to question how they would handle a similar situation. Would they be as brave as Drew and her new friends, or would they be doomed to a fate of mindless obedience? Compelling from beginning to end, C. L. Taylor’s latest novel is a refreshing break from the over-the-top science fiction dystopian novels, preferring to tackle futuristic ideas that are much closer to home. This is a book that can be fully recommended to the Young Adult community.
You have to help me. We’re not being reformed. We’re being brainwashed. When sixteen-year-old Drew Finch receives this note from a strange woman on the street claiming to be her brother’s psychologist, she does not know how to react. But when a speeding car hits the doctor immediately after, Drew begins to think something portentous is afoot. In The Treatment by C. L. Taylor, the Residential Reform Academy in Northumberland is achieving great things, turning antisocial teenagers into model citizens. Mason, Drew’s brother, has been expelled from three different schools and has been sent to the academy as a last resort, however, Drew now suspects that Mason is in trouble.
In a slightly dystopian setting, Drew, a usually quiet girl, easily gets herself admitted to the academy by punching the school bully. With the intention of helping Mason escape, Drew calmly arrives at the Academy, not realising how much danger she is placing herself in. She soon discovers that this would not be a transitory admission and, unless she escapes, she will become like all the other narcotised students.
Trying to remain fastidious whilst avoiding garrulous roommates and staff, Drew desperately tries to concoct an escape plan, however, she may be too late. The more she learns about the Residential Reform Academy, the more she discovers about the evil intentions behind it. How can she break out of the prison-like building and seek help when the government is deeply involved with the whole sordid procedure?
C. L. Taylor devises an exciting scenario that will appeal to fans of Cecelia Ahern’s Flawed and Kazuo Ishiguro’s Never Let Me Go. A thriller that needs a hero in the unlikely form of a teenage girl, The Treatment is a stimulating story about those without a public voice overthrowing the immoral experiments of the dastards in power.
A One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest for teenagers, this book deals with themes of mental health, oppression and the misuse of authority. Told from the perspective of a girl who has been bullied most of her life and coming from a dysfunctional family, there is a lot for the reader to connect with. Although it does not allay the growing fears of governmental conspiracies, The Treatment ends with the positive message that by standing up to those who do you wrong has its rewards, not only for yourself but for those in similar situations too.
The Treatment is a very enjoyable book that pulls the reader into the story, causing them to question how they would handle a similar situation. Would they be as brave as Drew and her new friends, or would they be doomed to a fate of mindless obedience? Compelling from beginning to end, C. L. Taylor’s latest novel is a refreshing break from the over-the-top science fiction dystopian novels, preferring to tackle futuristic ideas that are much closer to home. This is a book that can be fully recommended to the Young Adult community.
Kristy H (1252 KP) rated The Widow's House in Books
Dec 24, 2017
crazy (1 more)
fascinating
Jess and Clare Martin met at Bailey College, in the Hudson River valley, but have been living in New York for years. Jess wrote a successful first novel not long after graduation, but that money has long been spent. He's been working on his second book for ages; it's long overdue, and he needs a new muse. So the two decide to move back to the Hudson River area, where Jess can focus on the book without distractions. They take on duties as caretakers at Riven House, the home of their former college professor, Monty. They can live in a nearby cottage in exchange for helping the elderly Monty with chores. But the setup has its own issues: it's Monty, after all, who wrote a review of Jess' first book that torments him to this day. And as they settle in, Clare begins to hear a baby crying at night and see shadowy figures around the pond of Monty's property. As she investigates local history, she thinks what she sees may be tied to the house's tormented past. The locals say the place is haunted and destroys everyone who stays there. Are Clare and Jess next?
You know how sometimes you start a novel and immediately know, from the first page, that you'll enjoy it? THE WIDOW'S HOUSE was that way for me. It sucked me in immediately and kept me interested throughout; I read it in about 24 hours. The book is filled with complicated characters, starting with Clare. You start to realize she's the ultimate unreliable narrator, but are never able to tell exactly how much. She appears unhappy with her selfish author husband and her marriage. She had a rough childhood--growing up in the Hudson Valley not far from Monty's estate, which has clearly affected the way she sees the world. The entire story is told from her point of view, and we're stuck with all events being filtered through her lens. It's genius really, and it is a refreshing change from so many novels lately that change narrators and time periods. You find yourself working and guessing with Clare as she unravels local history and the events unfolding at Riven House.
The novel is certainly told in the Gothic tradition. I first fell for Goodman via her excellent novel, The Lake of Dead Languages, and this book reminded me of that one in some ways. Unlike some Gothic novels, you do not have to suspend much disbelief as the creepy events unfold around Clare and Jess. There are parts of this book that are incredibly spooky, and it's quite well-done. I loved that I was frantically flipping the pages, constantly second guessing everything and wondering what was happening. There are some great twists that shock you, even as you're still trying to figure things out in you're head (much like Clare). This novel will leave you guessing. It's crazy and confusing, but fascinating and incredibly hard to put down. It's completely enjoyable and stays with you after you've finished it, going over various plot points. Highly recommend.
You know how sometimes you start a novel and immediately know, from the first page, that you'll enjoy it? THE WIDOW'S HOUSE was that way for me. It sucked me in immediately and kept me interested throughout; I read it in about 24 hours. The book is filled with complicated characters, starting with Clare. You start to realize she's the ultimate unreliable narrator, but are never able to tell exactly how much. She appears unhappy with her selfish author husband and her marriage. She had a rough childhood--growing up in the Hudson Valley not far from Monty's estate, which has clearly affected the way she sees the world. The entire story is told from her point of view, and we're stuck with all events being filtered through her lens. It's genius really, and it is a refreshing change from so many novels lately that change narrators and time periods. You find yourself working and guessing with Clare as she unravels local history and the events unfolding at Riven House.
The novel is certainly told in the Gothic tradition. I first fell for Goodman via her excellent novel, The Lake of Dead Languages, and this book reminded me of that one in some ways. Unlike some Gothic novels, you do not have to suspend much disbelief as the creepy events unfold around Clare and Jess. There are parts of this book that are incredibly spooky, and it's quite well-done. I loved that I was frantically flipping the pages, constantly second guessing everything and wondering what was happening. There are some great twists that shock you, even as you're still trying to figure things out in you're head (much like Clare). This novel will leave you guessing. It's crazy and confusing, but fascinating and incredibly hard to put down. It's completely enjoyable and stays with you after you've finished it, going over various plot points. Highly recommend.
Hazel (1853 KP) rated Timmy Failure: The Cat Stole My Pants in Books
Sep 12, 2017
Amusing ... If you are a child
I received this book for free through Goodreads First Reads.
For fans of Diary of a Wimpy Kid (Kinney, 2004) is a juvenile series by American author, Stephan Pastis, about a young boy who believes he is the world’s greatest detective. A series that is continually growing, the sixth Timmy Failure story is now available for fans and new readers. Subtitled The Cat Stole My Pants, Timmy Failure embarks on an adventure of mystery and crime solving whilst getting himself into all sorts of mischief.
Emulating both real and fictional detectives, Timmy has established his own agency, Failure, Inc., of which he is the sole employee after the flight of his (imaginary) ex-business partner, Total the polar bear, who is currently seeking political asylum in Cuba. Unfortunately, Timmy has been forced to join his mother and Doorman Dave on their honeymoon in Key West, Florida, along with Doorman Dave’s nephew, Emilio.
“Crime doesn’t take a holiday. Neither does greatness.” Determined to continue solving crimes, Timmy hires Emilio as an unpaid intern and sets off searching for crimes, greatly over exaggerating every little piece of “evidence” he finds. However, it soon appears that someone is out to get Timmy and he, along with Emilio, is determined to find out whom.
Timmy is a melodramatic, unconventional child with a large ego and is constantly getting told off. From annoying adults to having his pants stolen by a polydactyl cat – or so he claims – there is no end to the hilarious situations he causes.
The cat that stole Timmy’s pants only makes a brief appearance in the book, therefore the subtitle is more to attract the attention of young readers with its silliness rather than be suggestive of a certain storyline.
Despite his grand claims, Timmy is not a very good detective and a lot of his unsolved crimes have been invented by his overactive imagination. This adds to the humour because, although he seems like an intelligent child, his ideas are completely silly.
Adorned with childish drawings and diagrams, Timmy Failure narrates the story from his subjective point of view, inflating his successes and blaming any failure on poor Emilio. No one takes Timmy seriously, which is something many of the target readers may appreciate, although they should also understand how futile Timmy’s attempts are at being a detective.
The storyline is not particularly clear until the final chapters of the book. Up until that moment, the book is full of disastrous, imaginary detective endeavours that prove Timmy to be nothing more than an annoying, inventive boy.
Some of the language may be above children’s reading capabilities, however, the humour is directly on their level. Whereas an adult may not find the idea of a cat stealing someone’s pants amusing, a child would find that hysterical.
There is no reason to read the Timmy Failure books in order, so if you, like me, read book six first, there is no problem. The stories are particularly aimed at young boys and will hopefully encourage the demographic to start reading more. Whilst it may not be a great feat of literature, it is a good enough introduction to the world of books.
For fans of Diary of a Wimpy Kid (Kinney, 2004) is a juvenile series by American author, Stephan Pastis, about a young boy who believes he is the world’s greatest detective. A series that is continually growing, the sixth Timmy Failure story is now available for fans and new readers. Subtitled The Cat Stole My Pants, Timmy Failure embarks on an adventure of mystery and crime solving whilst getting himself into all sorts of mischief.
Emulating both real and fictional detectives, Timmy has established his own agency, Failure, Inc., of which he is the sole employee after the flight of his (imaginary) ex-business partner, Total the polar bear, who is currently seeking political asylum in Cuba. Unfortunately, Timmy has been forced to join his mother and Doorman Dave on their honeymoon in Key West, Florida, along with Doorman Dave’s nephew, Emilio.
“Crime doesn’t take a holiday. Neither does greatness.” Determined to continue solving crimes, Timmy hires Emilio as an unpaid intern and sets off searching for crimes, greatly over exaggerating every little piece of “evidence” he finds. However, it soon appears that someone is out to get Timmy and he, along with Emilio, is determined to find out whom.
Timmy is a melodramatic, unconventional child with a large ego and is constantly getting told off. From annoying adults to having his pants stolen by a polydactyl cat – or so he claims – there is no end to the hilarious situations he causes.
The cat that stole Timmy’s pants only makes a brief appearance in the book, therefore the subtitle is more to attract the attention of young readers with its silliness rather than be suggestive of a certain storyline.
Despite his grand claims, Timmy is not a very good detective and a lot of his unsolved crimes have been invented by his overactive imagination. This adds to the humour because, although he seems like an intelligent child, his ideas are completely silly.
Adorned with childish drawings and diagrams, Timmy Failure narrates the story from his subjective point of view, inflating his successes and blaming any failure on poor Emilio. No one takes Timmy seriously, which is something many of the target readers may appreciate, although they should also understand how futile Timmy’s attempts are at being a detective.
The storyline is not particularly clear until the final chapters of the book. Up until that moment, the book is full of disastrous, imaginary detective endeavours that prove Timmy to be nothing more than an annoying, inventive boy.
Some of the language may be above children’s reading capabilities, however, the humour is directly on their level. Whereas an adult may not find the idea of a cat stealing someone’s pants amusing, a child would find that hysterical.
There is no reason to read the Timmy Failure books in order, so if you, like me, read book six first, there is no problem. The stories are particularly aimed at young boys and will hopefully encourage the demographic to start reading more. Whilst it may not be a great feat of literature, it is a good enough introduction to the world of books.
Rachel King (13 KP) rated Twilight's Dawn (The Black Jewels, #9) in Books
Feb 11, 2019
Anne Bishop's newest addition to the Black Jewels series is a collection of four novellas that fill in a few gaps in the growing storyline, as well as answering the question of what happens after certain central characters are gone from the series.
The first story, "Winsol Gifts", takes place a year after Daemon Sadi and Jaenelle Angelline have been married and after the events in Tangled Webs (Black Jewels, Book 6). It is a sweet story that explores Daemon's new roles as the Warlord Prince of Dhemlan, as well as Tersa's relationship with both Daemon and Lucivar. The question of whether Jaenelle can ever take back the Ebony - and if she will - is also answered, which was very satisfying for me.
The second story, "Shades of Honor", centers on Prince Falonar and the on-going damage he causes from his own prejudices. Surreal and Rainier's recoveries from injuries sustained from the evil haunted house are also central to the story. It also answers the question of how Rainier came to work for Daemon Sadi. Lucivar is also forced to learn how to better run Ebon Rih, which allows the reader to learn a bit more about Eyriens. This story also sparked my curiosity about the Dea al Mon, Surreal's heritage, since the story ended with her going to stay with them.
The third story, "Family", is about what happens to Sylvia, Saetan's lover and wife, and her sons. Through her story, the reader gets a clearer picture of what life is like for the demon-dead, as well as a glimpse of the kind of power that Tersa can wield. The reader also gets to find out if Jaenelle will ever take on the role of a Queen again, as well as how Daemon and Jaenelle deal with the issue of no children.
The final story, "The High Lord's Daughter", spans a period of decades in the telling. This story is both the most tragic and the most promising of the four novellas, as two main characters pass on, while the next generation of the SaDiablo family opens up brand-new story lines for Bishop to explore, should she decide to do so. While it was pretty obvious from the cover description that Jaenelle would die in this story, I was not satisfied with the explanation as to why she could not become demon-dead. I did find it both believable and realistic that Daemon would need to marry again, despite his own grief and stubbornness, and I was very happy that he married the woman he did, as I saw their unique bond long before this book came along. Their daughter also made me quite happy, as I can see how she could continue the magic of "dreams made flesh". I was also happy for Marian and Lucivar, as they finally got their daughter. Of course, now I have a new question that will drive me nuts until the next book - if a person's Birthright Jewel is Twilight's Dawn, then what stone does she descend to?
The first story, "Winsol Gifts", takes place a year after Daemon Sadi and Jaenelle Angelline have been married and after the events in Tangled Webs (Black Jewels, Book 6). It is a sweet story that explores Daemon's new roles as the Warlord Prince of Dhemlan, as well as Tersa's relationship with both Daemon and Lucivar. The question of whether Jaenelle can ever take back the Ebony - and if she will - is also answered, which was very satisfying for me.
The second story, "Shades of Honor", centers on Prince Falonar and the on-going damage he causes from his own prejudices. Surreal and Rainier's recoveries from injuries sustained from the evil haunted house are also central to the story. It also answers the question of how Rainier came to work for Daemon Sadi. Lucivar is also forced to learn how to better run Ebon Rih, which allows the reader to learn a bit more about Eyriens. This story also sparked my curiosity about the Dea al Mon, Surreal's heritage, since the story ended with her going to stay with them.
The third story, "Family", is about what happens to Sylvia, Saetan's lover and wife, and her sons. Through her story, the reader gets a clearer picture of what life is like for the demon-dead, as well as a glimpse of the kind of power that Tersa can wield. The reader also gets to find out if Jaenelle will ever take on the role of a Queen again, as well as how Daemon and Jaenelle deal with the issue of no children.
The final story, "The High Lord's Daughter", spans a period of decades in the telling. This story is both the most tragic and the most promising of the four novellas, as two main characters pass on, while the next generation of the SaDiablo family opens up brand-new story lines for Bishop to explore, should she decide to do so. While it was pretty obvious from the cover description that Jaenelle would die in this story, I was not satisfied with the explanation as to why she could not become demon-dead. I did find it both believable and realistic that Daemon would need to marry again, despite his own grief and stubbornness, and I was very happy that he married the woman he did, as I saw their unique bond long before this book came along. Their daughter also made me quite happy, as I can see how she could continue the magic of "dreams made flesh". I was also happy for Marian and Lucivar, as they finally got their daughter. Of course, now I have a new question that will drive me nuts until the next book - if a person's Birthright Jewel is Twilight's Dawn, then what stone does she descend to?
Sassy Brit (97 KP) rated Vendetta in Books
Jun 5, 2019
Vendetta by Iris Johansen brings back characters introduced in the Eve Duncan books. Although it is billed as an “Eve Duncan” she is only mentioned briefly. But, this does not take anything away from the plot and the main characters, Rachel Venable and Jude Brandon. The story centers on these two and their attempts to bring down Max Huber, the head of Red Star, a terrorist organization with immense power.
The story begins with the shooting of a top CIA official, Carl Venable. His dying breath to the operative, Jude Brandon, to save his daughter, Dr. Rachel Venable, and give her the choice of eliminating Huber to prevent him from wreaking further havoc on a global scale. Huber wants revenge on Rachel, believing that she killed his father by poisoning him. Enlisting the help of her good friend, CIA operative Catherine Ling and her on again, off again boyfriend, Richard Cameron, they work together to bring Huber down.
Johansen noted, “Every other chapter has a choice come into play. It is all about making choices. Rachel had to decide if she would go after the bad guys. Brandon whether he would involve himself emotionally with Rachel. Catherine made the choice not to hide from her desire for Cameron, as well as knowing she had to give Rachel space and control over her own destiny. The bad guy Huber is pure evil without redeeming qualities and his choice was to inflict as much collateral damage as possible. Even though I have a choice as a writer, I just wanted to kill Huber for doing terrible things to the people I love in my books.”
Both Rachel and Catherine had similar experiences of having to overcome rape. At the age of fifteen Rachel was captured by the Taliban in Afghanistan, watched them kill her mother and brother, and was brutally raped as well as tortured. What Johansen does wonderfully is to show how Rachel is determined to overcome her past experiences. One of the reasons she becomes a medical doctor is to heal people. Both Catherine and Rachel are intelligent, tough, strong, independent, and stubborn.
The book quote has Rachel determined to not be seen as a cripple. “I wrote that because I consider it the bravest thing she ever said. She went through a terrible event, but she fought and conquered it. Catherine also had a tough life, growing up on the Hong Kong waterfronts. She learned from it to become stronger. These two women are more similar than different. They had rough teenage years that they had to overcome. I think they are more sisters than friends and will always go to bat for each other. I think Catherine is more like the older sister because she has a son, which makes a big difference.”
Johansen writes female characters that are something other than constant damsels in distress. They find a way to survive and have come out even stronger. This story shows how a character’s past and the decisions made influence the present and future, sometimes to the point of getting revenge by pursuing a vendetta.
The story begins with the shooting of a top CIA official, Carl Venable. His dying breath to the operative, Jude Brandon, to save his daughter, Dr. Rachel Venable, and give her the choice of eliminating Huber to prevent him from wreaking further havoc on a global scale. Huber wants revenge on Rachel, believing that she killed his father by poisoning him. Enlisting the help of her good friend, CIA operative Catherine Ling and her on again, off again boyfriend, Richard Cameron, they work together to bring Huber down.
Johansen noted, “Every other chapter has a choice come into play. It is all about making choices. Rachel had to decide if she would go after the bad guys. Brandon whether he would involve himself emotionally with Rachel. Catherine made the choice not to hide from her desire for Cameron, as well as knowing she had to give Rachel space and control over her own destiny. The bad guy Huber is pure evil without redeeming qualities and his choice was to inflict as much collateral damage as possible. Even though I have a choice as a writer, I just wanted to kill Huber for doing terrible things to the people I love in my books.”
Both Rachel and Catherine had similar experiences of having to overcome rape. At the age of fifteen Rachel was captured by the Taliban in Afghanistan, watched them kill her mother and brother, and was brutally raped as well as tortured. What Johansen does wonderfully is to show how Rachel is determined to overcome her past experiences. One of the reasons she becomes a medical doctor is to heal people. Both Catherine and Rachel are intelligent, tough, strong, independent, and stubborn.
The book quote has Rachel determined to not be seen as a cripple. “I wrote that because I consider it the bravest thing she ever said. She went through a terrible event, but she fought and conquered it. Catherine also had a tough life, growing up on the Hong Kong waterfronts. She learned from it to become stronger. These two women are more similar than different. They had rough teenage years that they had to overcome. I think they are more sisters than friends and will always go to bat for each other. I think Catherine is more like the older sister because she has a son, which makes a big difference.”
Johansen writes female characters that are something other than constant damsels in distress. They find a way to survive and have come out even stronger. This story shows how a character’s past and the decisions made influence the present and future, sometimes to the point of getting revenge by pursuing a vendetta.
Movie Metropolis (309 KP) rated The Good Dinosaur (2015) in Movies
Jun 10, 2019
Is it as good as Inside Out?
2015 has been a great year for film. From long-awaited sequels to the conclusion of epic franchises, it’s been one of the best and most successful movie seasons in recent memory, and with Star Wars: the Force Awakens out in December, it can only finish on a high.
It also marks the first time that Pixar has released two films in the same year. Summer saw the release of instant-classic Inside Out and now animation fans get to enjoy another movie from the studio, The Good Dinosaur, but has Pixar bitten of more than it can chew?
The Good Dinosaur follows the story of a young Apatosaurus named Arlo, voiced beautifully by Raymond Ochoa, as he comes to terms with growing up in an ever-changing world where dinosaurs never met their well-documented fates.
He, alongside human child Spot suddenly find themselves embroiled in a dangerous journey after getting lost a long way from their homes.
If this all sounds a little formulaic to you, then that’s because it is. The Good Dinosaur has a plot more akin to Paramount animation, rather than the exceptional storytelling we have come to expect from Pixar. There’s nothing particularly special or unique about the plot and this is a real shame.
Thankfully, Pixar’s usual gut-punches are out in full force and The Good Dinosaur is among one of the emotional films in the studio’s roster. Personal tragedy is never an easy thing to convey in a movie meant to be enjoyed by the whole family, but here it is dealt with in a beautiful and tasteful manner.
Scenes in which Arlo and Spot share their circumstances with each other hit home hard and are deeply saddening to watch.
The cinematography too is absolutely exceptional. The breath-taking prehistoric landscapes are rendered in such stunning animation, they almost feel real. From raging white-water to beautiful sun-flooded forests, everything is a joy to behold and this is where The Good Dinosaur excels – a firefly swarm in particular is spectacular and propels the film into How to Train Your Dragon territory for sheer spectacle.
However, the entire film feels like a show reel, albeit a mesmerising one, for the talents at Pixar. Each shot of scenery is lingered on for a little too long and agoraphobic Arlo’s plight can sometimes take a backseat to this beauty.
Nevertheless, there are some wonderful characters here. A trio of T-Rex, who turn out to be cowboys – or should that be cowdinos, provide The Good Dinosaur with some of its more standout moments and it’s the lack of these sequences where the film is found wanting.
Overall, Pixar has created another excellent piece of animation with The Good Dinosaur. Though not quite at their ‘gold standard,’ the film is a wonder to behold and shows just how gorgeous animated features can be.
Unfortunately, the lack of an original story ensures it’ll prove second best to Inside Out in this year’s battle despite its deeper emotional resonance.
https://moviemetropolis.net/2015/11/29/is-it-as-good-as-inside-out-the-good-dinosaur-review/
It also marks the first time that Pixar has released two films in the same year. Summer saw the release of instant-classic Inside Out and now animation fans get to enjoy another movie from the studio, The Good Dinosaur, but has Pixar bitten of more than it can chew?
The Good Dinosaur follows the story of a young Apatosaurus named Arlo, voiced beautifully by Raymond Ochoa, as he comes to terms with growing up in an ever-changing world where dinosaurs never met their well-documented fates.
He, alongside human child Spot suddenly find themselves embroiled in a dangerous journey after getting lost a long way from their homes.
If this all sounds a little formulaic to you, then that’s because it is. The Good Dinosaur has a plot more akin to Paramount animation, rather than the exceptional storytelling we have come to expect from Pixar. There’s nothing particularly special or unique about the plot and this is a real shame.
Thankfully, Pixar’s usual gut-punches are out in full force and The Good Dinosaur is among one of the emotional films in the studio’s roster. Personal tragedy is never an easy thing to convey in a movie meant to be enjoyed by the whole family, but here it is dealt with in a beautiful and tasteful manner.
Scenes in which Arlo and Spot share their circumstances with each other hit home hard and are deeply saddening to watch.
The cinematography too is absolutely exceptional. The breath-taking prehistoric landscapes are rendered in such stunning animation, they almost feel real. From raging white-water to beautiful sun-flooded forests, everything is a joy to behold and this is where The Good Dinosaur excels – a firefly swarm in particular is spectacular and propels the film into How to Train Your Dragon territory for sheer spectacle.
However, the entire film feels like a show reel, albeit a mesmerising one, for the talents at Pixar. Each shot of scenery is lingered on for a little too long and agoraphobic Arlo’s plight can sometimes take a backseat to this beauty.
Nevertheless, there are some wonderful characters here. A trio of T-Rex, who turn out to be cowboys – or should that be cowdinos, provide The Good Dinosaur with some of its more standout moments and it’s the lack of these sequences where the film is found wanting.
Overall, Pixar has created another excellent piece of animation with The Good Dinosaur. Though not quite at their ‘gold standard,’ the film is a wonder to behold and shows just how gorgeous animated features can be.
Unfortunately, the lack of an original story ensures it’ll prove second best to Inside Out in this year’s battle despite its deeper emotional resonance.
https://moviemetropolis.net/2015/11/29/is-it-as-good-as-inside-out-the-good-dinosaur-review/