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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.
Hazel (1853 KP) rated The Treatment in Books
Dec 7, 2018
<i>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. </i>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 <i>The Treatment</i> 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 <i>Flawed</i> and Kazuo Ishiguro’s <i>Never Let Me Go</i>. A thriller that needs a hero in the unlikely form of a teenage girl, <i>The Treatment</i> is a stimulating story about those without a public voice overthrowing the immoral experiments of the dastards in power.
A <i>One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest</i> 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.
<i>The Treatment</i> 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. </i>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 <i>The Treatment</i> 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 <i>Flawed</i> and Kazuo Ishiguro’s <i>Never Let Me Go</i>. A thriller that needs a hero in the unlikely form of a teenage girl, <i>The Treatment</i> is a stimulating story about those without a public voice overthrowing the immoral experiments of the dastards in power.
A <i>One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest</i> 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.
<i>The Treatment</i> 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.
BookInspector (124 KP) rated The Year of No Rules in Books
Sep 24, 2020
The blurb of this book, describes it quite accurately, however, there is way more to this book. It goes through all the parts of the relationship: love, separation, depression, acceptance and moving on.
The main characters of this book were Sasha and Kirk, later joined by Sam. The whole narrative was told only from Sasha’s perspective, so we have to believe of how Sasha portrayed them and don’t really have an insight into their personalities to judge them ourselves. Even though Sasha was the lead in this story, my favorite character in this book was Sam. I honestly liked him for his charisma, understanding nature, and all women should have a partner like him. Some of Sasha’s actions really annoyed me, it’s like watching a horror movie, where the actress is going to a dark cellar willingly when we know she is going to die. In these cases, I really want to shout to her “danger, don’t go!”/ “don’t be stupid, you are going to die!”, but the actress still does it and gets hurt in the end… Why Sasha? Why?
The whole book was divided into three parts: “The year with rules”; “After Kirk”; “The year of no rules”. In the first part, Sasha was sharing her life with Kirk. How their dates used to go, what Kirk did in the past, and how she loved to spoil him. In the second part, Sasha was telling how she was dealing (or not) with her life after Kirk walked off. She shared he sorrows, memories, and how Kirk was psychologically tormenting her even many months after their break up. (Sasha why did you allow it? WHY?) In the third part, Sasha started to gather her life again, by setting little goals to fight her major depression and finding a fantastic man.
The plot of this novel often jumped between past and present through Sasha’s memories about Kirk and their relationship. What I loved the most about this book, was the topics which McClelland discussed in this book: the danger of controlling partners; forgiving person even after grand betrayal; major depression and how people can fight it; how to deal with broken trust. I think this book can really help women who were/are in Sasha’s situation and need help, I think it could be a guide to taking those first steps to help yourself.
The writing style of this book was pleasant and really easy to read, with short chapters, which made it a great weekend read. It has a nice ending to the book, I would say realistic ending, not “happily ever after” one, which you can read in most fiction books. So, to conclude, even though there are many, many Sasha’s actions which made me question “Woman, why would you do this?”, I loved this book because it is funny, carries a strong message, and how relate-able it can be to some people. I do recommend it to all chick lit fans, and to all who are going through a nasty break up. Enjoy! :)
Was given this book by the author for honest review.
The main characters of this book were Sasha and Kirk, later joined by Sam. The whole narrative was told only from Sasha’s perspective, so we have to believe of how Sasha portrayed them and don’t really have an insight into their personalities to judge them ourselves. Even though Sasha was the lead in this story, my favorite character in this book was Sam. I honestly liked him for his charisma, understanding nature, and all women should have a partner like him. Some of Sasha’s actions really annoyed me, it’s like watching a horror movie, where the actress is going to a dark cellar willingly when we know she is going to die. In these cases, I really want to shout to her “danger, don’t go!”/ “don’t be stupid, you are going to die!”, but the actress still does it and gets hurt in the end… Why Sasha? Why?
The whole book was divided into three parts: “The year with rules”; “After Kirk”; “The year of no rules”. In the first part, Sasha was sharing her life with Kirk. How their dates used to go, what Kirk did in the past, and how she loved to spoil him. In the second part, Sasha was telling how she was dealing (or not) with her life after Kirk walked off. She shared he sorrows, memories, and how Kirk was psychologically tormenting her even many months after their break up. (Sasha why did you allow it? WHY?) In the third part, Sasha started to gather her life again, by setting little goals to fight her major depression and finding a fantastic man.
The plot of this novel often jumped between past and present through Sasha’s memories about Kirk and their relationship. What I loved the most about this book, was the topics which McClelland discussed in this book: the danger of controlling partners; forgiving person even after grand betrayal; major depression and how people can fight it; how to deal with broken trust. I think this book can really help women who were/are in Sasha’s situation and need help, I think it could be a guide to taking those first steps to help yourself.
The writing style of this book was pleasant and really easy to read, with short chapters, which made it a great weekend read. It has a nice ending to the book, I would say realistic ending, not “happily ever after” one, which you can read in most fiction books. So, to conclude, even though there are many, many Sasha’s actions which made me question “Woman, why would you do this?”, I loved this book because it is funny, carries a strong message, and how relate-able it can be to some people. I do recommend it to all chick lit fans, and to all who are going through a nasty break up. Enjoy! :)
Was given this book by the author for honest review.
Mandy and G.D. Burkhead (26 KP) rated Hottest Blood: The Ultimate in Erotic Horror in Books
May 20, 2018
Shelf Life – Hottest Blood: The Ultimate in Erotic Horror is Neither of Those Things
(I’m gonna go ahead and throw a disclaimer on up here: You are about to read something that deals with purportedly “erotic” subject matter. If you don’t like the sound of that word, you might wanna go elsewhere. If it’s actually-erotic things that offend you, though, you’ll be fine.)
I like short story compilations because you get a variety of content that’s just as easy to breeze through if you have the time as it is to get to a stopping point and put down if you don’t. I like horror fiction because it usually involves the super-natural, which interests me, and intense emotional responses, which are almost always a good thing in writing. And I like eroticism because I am a warm-blooded human being with a pulse. However, on the whole, I do not like Hottest Blood.
I wanted to, I did. Look at that cover. It’s equal amounts scary and sexy, both in completely safe, PG-13-at-most kind of ways. Unfortunately, Softcore Succubus here is both the scariest and the sexiest thing about this book
Bluntly analogized, you know that feeling you get when you come across something on the internet that disturbs and/or disgusts you, and then you learn that there’s a dedicated group of people that gets off on it? Most of the stories in this book are that feeling captured in words.
Case in point, the story “Damaged Goods” by Elizabeth Massie, which as far as I can tell is about a couple of physically abused, emotionally damaged, developmentally stunted kids somewhere around their early teens who live with a religious fringe cult being led out to a field to have sex with each other while a nameless U.S. President watches and masturbates before both kids are drowned in a river by their preacher/pimp caretaker.
Or there’s “Mr. Right” by Chris Lacher, which tells the story of a college student named Russ who has a secret fetish for the deformed women in the freak show at a nearby carnival – a fascination which leads to him getting held down and forcibly raped by a group of unwashed subhuman mutants, which the detailed descriptions make sure you understand are completely revolting to all five senses. The story ends with him being dumped out behind the fairgrounds while a small, legless girl happily informs him that this is how all carnival workers reproduce, and he can look forward to seeing his own mutant rape-spawn in the show next year.
Or there’s “Abuse” by Matthew Costello, which simply shows us how the arrest of a Peewee Herman surrogate goes down in an adult movie theater before ending with another man jerking off with the cold, dry, severed hand in his pocket as he contemplates getting a new one to replace it.
The tone of these three are pretty much par for the course for the rest of the book: thoroughly disturbing, and sex is involved, but the disturbing feeling stems from revulsion rather than fear, and the sex bits are so far on the other end of the spectrum from erotic that it feels like the authors are trying to punish their readers for even expecting to be aroused in any way.
Of course, I said myself earlier that intense emotional responses are “almost always a good thing in writing.” By that merit alone, this book technically succeeds; in fact, if it had billed itself as shock fiction instead of erotic horror, I’d begrudgingly give it a medal in its class. The “aw, what the hell?!” moments are not as artistically executed as, say, a Chuck Palahniuk read, and they tend not to have as much depth to them, but strictly in terms of making you wish that you could unread words, they get the job done.
But that isn’t the job that Hottest Blood was hired to do, and that’s not what it put on its resume. It said it was going to “heat the blood and chill the mind,” and promised that “terror never felt this sexy!” It would have been more appropriate to say that “sex never felt this terrible.”
All of that said, if you abandon any hope of seeing anything resembling erotica or horror (scary horror, anyway), there are a few stories in here that are decent reads – mostly because they try to say something with their subject matter rather than use it to see how thoroughly they can ruin the idea of sex for the reader. To give a few quick nods of approval:
Nancy Holder’s “I Hear the Mermaids Singing,” which opens the anthology, is a dark and modern re-imagining of “The Little Mermaid” that brutally points up the drawbacks to throwing away your whole life and family in order to pursue someone that you know nothing about outside of a few fleeting glimpses and lustful inner fantasies.
J.L. Comeau’s “Black Cars” is the narrative of a high-class chauffeur as he tells his passenger an increasingly mysterious story about a couple of his regular customers, culminating in a creepy twist payoff that, in retrospect, actually makes it count as a legitimate horror story, and a decently gripping one at that.
And “Safe at Home” by Steve and Melanie Tem, while decidedly and disturbingly unsexy, at least has good reason to be; it’s a short character study of a young woman who’d been molested as a child, and the lasting and complex psychological damage resulting thereof that prevents her from having any normal social life or relationships, even with someone whom she legitimately likes, someone who knows what’s happened and sincerely cares for her.
So for the handful of intriguing stories that don’t make you quit (or wish you had) mid-read out of revolted disappointment, I can’t completely condemn Hottest Blood. If you want to test your own threshold for repulsion but are understandably hesitant to use online image searches to this end, I heartily recommend it.
If you are legitimately turned on by the idea of a man eating a woman alive and then gestating her alien spawn inside his own bloated body until his head detaches and crawls away (“How Deep the Taste of Love,” John Shirley), I suppose I still heartily recommend it, though I do so from a safe distance.
If you want to read one of the few stories involved that aren’t horrible, I heartily recommend trying to find them on their own somewhere else first.
But if you want “the ultimate in erotic horror,” stay the hell away. Softcore Succubus is a trap.
I like short story compilations because you get a variety of content that’s just as easy to breeze through if you have the time as it is to get to a stopping point and put down if you don’t. I like horror fiction because it usually involves the super-natural, which interests me, and intense emotional responses, which are almost always a good thing in writing. And I like eroticism because I am a warm-blooded human being with a pulse. However, on the whole, I do not like Hottest Blood.
I wanted to, I did. Look at that cover. It’s equal amounts scary and sexy, both in completely safe, PG-13-at-most kind of ways. Unfortunately, Softcore Succubus here is both the scariest and the sexiest thing about this book
Bluntly analogized, you know that feeling you get when you come across something on the internet that disturbs and/or disgusts you, and then you learn that there’s a dedicated group of people that gets off on it? Most of the stories in this book are that feeling captured in words.
Case in point, the story “Damaged Goods” by Elizabeth Massie, which as far as I can tell is about a couple of physically abused, emotionally damaged, developmentally stunted kids somewhere around their early teens who live with a religious fringe cult being led out to a field to have sex with each other while a nameless U.S. President watches and masturbates before both kids are drowned in a river by their preacher/pimp caretaker.
Or there’s “Mr. Right” by Chris Lacher, which tells the story of a college student named Russ who has a secret fetish for the deformed women in the freak show at a nearby carnival – a fascination which leads to him getting held down and forcibly raped by a group of unwashed subhuman mutants, which the detailed descriptions make sure you understand are completely revolting to all five senses. The story ends with him being dumped out behind the fairgrounds while a small, legless girl happily informs him that this is how all carnival workers reproduce, and he can look forward to seeing his own mutant rape-spawn in the show next year.
Or there’s “Abuse” by Matthew Costello, which simply shows us how the arrest of a Peewee Herman surrogate goes down in an adult movie theater before ending with another man jerking off with the cold, dry, severed hand in his pocket as he contemplates getting a new one to replace it.
The tone of these three are pretty much par for the course for the rest of the book: thoroughly disturbing, and sex is involved, but the disturbing feeling stems from revulsion rather than fear, and the sex bits are so far on the other end of the spectrum from erotic that it feels like the authors are trying to punish their readers for even expecting to be aroused in any way.
Of course, I said myself earlier that intense emotional responses are “almost always a good thing in writing.” By that merit alone, this book technically succeeds; in fact, if it had billed itself as shock fiction instead of erotic horror, I’d begrudgingly give it a medal in its class. The “aw, what the hell?!” moments are not as artistically executed as, say, a Chuck Palahniuk read, and they tend not to have as much depth to them, but strictly in terms of making you wish that you could unread words, they get the job done.
But that isn’t the job that Hottest Blood was hired to do, and that’s not what it put on its resume. It said it was going to “heat the blood and chill the mind,” and promised that “terror never felt this sexy!” It would have been more appropriate to say that “sex never felt this terrible.”
All of that said, if you abandon any hope of seeing anything resembling erotica or horror (scary horror, anyway), there are a few stories in here that are decent reads – mostly because they try to say something with their subject matter rather than use it to see how thoroughly they can ruin the idea of sex for the reader. To give a few quick nods of approval:
Nancy Holder’s “I Hear the Mermaids Singing,” which opens the anthology, is a dark and modern re-imagining of “The Little Mermaid” that brutally points up the drawbacks to throwing away your whole life and family in order to pursue someone that you know nothing about outside of a few fleeting glimpses and lustful inner fantasies.
J.L. Comeau’s “Black Cars” is the narrative of a high-class chauffeur as he tells his passenger an increasingly mysterious story about a couple of his regular customers, culminating in a creepy twist payoff that, in retrospect, actually makes it count as a legitimate horror story, and a decently gripping one at that.
And “Safe at Home” by Steve and Melanie Tem, while decidedly and disturbingly unsexy, at least has good reason to be; it’s a short character study of a young woman who’d been molested as a child, and the lasting and complex psychological damage resulting thereof that prevents her from having any normal social life or relationships, even with someone whom she legitimately likes, someone who knows what’s happened and sincerely cares for her.
So for the handful of intriguing stories that don’t make you quit (or wish you had) mid-read out of revolted disappointment, I can’t completely condemn Hottest Blood. If you want to test your own threshold for repulsion but are understandably hesitant to use online image searches to this end, I heartily recommend it.
If you are legitimately turned on by the idea of a man eating a woman alive and then gestating her alien spawn inside his own bloated body until his head detaches and crawls away (“How Deep the Taste of Love,” John Shirley), I suppose I still heartily recommend it, though I do so from a safe distance.
If you want to read one of the few stories involved that aren’t horrible, I heartily recommend trying to find them on their own somewhere else first.
But if you want “the ultimate in erotic horror,” stay the hell away. Softcore Succubus is a trap.
Hazel (1853 KP) rated The Music Shop in Books
Aug 22, 2017
Learning to listen
This eBook was provided by the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review
From the author of The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry comes a unique and beautiful story about music and learning how to listen. The Music Shop by Rachel Joyce takes readers on a journey through the developing music world of the late 1980s when CDs are beginning to wipe out all other means of recording music – a complete disaster for someone like Frank, the owner of the music shop, who only sells vinyl.
The book begins in 1988 in a crumbling down street where shopkeepers are barely making enough money to survive. Frank’s shop is one of the few remaining and, despite everything against him, is determined to keep going. Not only does he sell vinyl records, Frank has an empathetic gift allowing him to sense exactly what a customer needs to listen to, even though they may not realise it themselves. However, one day, Frank’s world is turned upside down by the arrival of a young German woman, Ilse Brauchmann, who faints on his doorstep.
Ilse intrigues all of the shopkeepers on Unity Street, particularly Frank’s teenaged assistant, Kit. Although Frank tries to deny it, Ilse also fascinates him to the point that he is rarely thinking of anything else. But what concerns him most is that he cannot pinpoint what piece of music she ought to listen to. When questioned, Ilse admits she knows nothing about music and begs Frank to give her lessons. These lessons have nothing to do with instruments – Frank is the least qualified to teach such a thing – but about how to listen to music. How to hear the pauses in classical pieces; understand the meaning behind Beethoven’s sonatas; feel the passion behind punk music; learn to love a number of composers for the things many people miss.
The longer Frank spends around Ilse, the more he begins to fall in love. However, love is something Frank denies himself ever since the death of his mother fifteen years previously. Written in italics are flashback chapters explaining how Frank’s love of music came about, his relationship with his mother, and how he ended up as a dead-end vinyl seller. Due to his fear of intimate relationships, Frank keeps pushing Ilse away until, one day, he realises how much he needs her. But, he may have left it too late.
The Music Shop is split into four sections, or sides (a reference to vinyl records). Side A introduces the characters and settings during a wintery January when Frank is beginning to struggle with the competition caused by the recently opened Woolworths on the nearby high street. Sides B and C focus on the development of Frank and Ilse’s friendship, the secrets they hide from each other and the foreboding sense of disaster hanging over the one-of-a-kind music shop.
As Frank begins to realise how much Ilse means to him, the sudden appearance of side D will break readers’ hearts. Whilst sides A, B and C take place in 1988, side D jumps forward 21 years to 2009. It appears Frank and Ilse never got the relationship they deserved. Two unhappy decades have been and gone, demolishing any resemblance of the way life used to be. However, because there is a side D, readers can only hope it will result in a happy ending.
The Music Shop is a love story between two quiet, modest characters whose past and present circumstances get in the way of a peaceful future. However, it is not only a piece of romantic fiction. Rachel Joyce writes a message in story format about second chances and being brave. Learning to listen does not only apply to music, it applies to hearing what other people are saying and what they are not; most importantly, the book urges people to listen to themselves.
The research undertaken for this novel is phenomenal. For starters, it is set almost thirty years ago when vinyl was only beginning to go out of fashion. The quality of music and the access people had to it was extremely different to the simplicity of today where it is possible to download everything at the press of a button. The breadth of music genre is as wide as possible. Every type of music is covered from Handel’s Messiah to Aretha Franklin and The Sex Pistols. To be able to discuss such a range without falling into stereotypes is a feat worthy of congratulating.
The Music Shop far surpasses anything Rachel Joyce has written so far. The story is fragile in a beautiful way, its delicacy causing the reader to treat it with care, rather than rush through it like some mundane piece of fiction. It will interest a whole host of readers: male and female, music lovers and those with a preference for silence. Whoever you are, be prepared to take something away from this distinctive, outstanding novel.
From the author of The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry comes a unique and beautiful story about music and learning how to listen. The Music Shop by Rachel Joyce takes readers on a journey through the developing music world of the late 1980s when CDs are beginning to wipe out all other means of recording music – a complete disaster for someone like Frank, the owner of the music shop, who only sells vinyl.
The book begins in 1988 in a crumbling down street where shopkeepers are barely making enough money to survive. Frank’s shop is one of the few remaining and, despite everything against him, is determined to keep going. Not only does he sell vinyl records, Frank has an empathetic gift allowing him to sense exactly what a customer needs to listen to, even though they may not realise it themselves. However, one day, Frank’s world is turned upside down by the arrival of a young German woman, Ilse Brauchmann, who faints on his doorstep.
Ilse intrigues all of the shopkeepers on Unity Street, particularly Frank’s teenaged assistant, Kit. Although Frank tries to deny it, Ilse also fascinates him to the point that he is rarely thinking of anything else. But what concerns him most is that he cannot pinpoint what piece of music she ought to listen to. When questioned, Ilse admits she knows nothing about music and begs Frank to give her lessons. These lessons have nothing to do with instruments – Frank is the least qualified to teach such a thing – but about how to listen to music. How to hear the pauses in classical pieces; understand the meaning behind Beethoven’s sonatas; feel the passion behind punk music; learn to love a number of composers for the things many people miss.
The longer Frank spends around Ilse, the more he begins to fall in love. However, love is something Frank denies himself ever since the death of his mother fifteen years previously. Written in italics are flashback chapters explaining how Frank’s love of music came about, his relationship with his mother, and how he ended up as a dead-end vinyl seller. Due to his fear of intimate relationships, Frank keeps pushing Ilse away until, one day, he realises how much he needs her. But, he may have left it too late.
The Music Shop is split into four sections, or sides (a reference to vinyl records). Side A introduces the characters and settings during a wintery January when Frank is beginning to struggle with the competition caused by the recently opened Woolworths on the nearby high street. Sides B and C focus on the development of Frank and Ilse’s friendship, the secrets they hide from each other and the foreboding sense of disaster hanging over the one-of-a-kind music shop.
As Frank begins to realise how much Ilse means to him, the sudden appearance of side D will break readers’ hearts. Whilst sides A, B and C take place in 1988, side D jumps forward 21 years to 2009. It appears Frank and Ilse never got the relationship they deserved. Two unhappy decades have been and gone, demolishing any resemblance of the way life used to be. However, because there is a side D, readers can only hope it will result in a happy ending.
The Music Shop is a love story between two quiet, modest characters whose past and present circumstances get in the way of a peaceful future. However, it is not only a piece of romantic fiction. Rachel Joyce writes a message in story format about second chances and being brave. Learning to listen does not only apply to music, it applies to hearing what other people are saying and what they are not; most importantly, the book urges people to listen to themselves.
The research undertaken for this novel is phenomenal. For starters, it is set almost thirty years ago when vinyl was only beginning to go out of fashion. The quality of music and the access people had to it was extremely different to the simplicity of today where it is possible to download everything at the press of a button. The breadth of music genre is as wide as possible. Every type of music is covered from Handel’s Messiah to Aretha Franklin and The Sex Pistols. To be able to discuss such a range without falling into stereotypes is a feat worthy of congratulating.
The Music Shop far surpasses anything Rachel Joyce has written so far. The story is fragile in a beautiful way, its delicacy causing the reader to treat it with care, rather than rush through it like some mundane piece of fiction. It will interest a whole host of readers: male and female, music lovers and those with a preference for silence. Whoever you are, be prepared to take something away from this distinctive, outstanding novel.
Hazel (1853 KP) rated The Music Shop in Books
Dec 7, 2018
<i>This eBook was provided by the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review </i>
From the author of <i>The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry </i>comes a unique and beautiful story about music and learning how to listen. <i>The Music Shop</i> by Rachel Joyce takes readers on a journey through the developing music world of the late 1980s when CDs are beginning to wipe out all other means of recording music – a complete disaster for someone like Frank, the owner of the music shop, who only sells vinyl.
The book begins in 1988 in a crumbling down street where shopkeepers are barely making enough money to survive. Frank’s shop is one of the few remaining and, despite everything against him, is determined to keep going. Not only does he sell vinyl records, Frank has an empathetic gift allowing him to sense exactly what a customer needs to listen to, even though they may not realise it themselves. However, one day, Frank’s world is turned upside down by the arrival of a young German woman, Ilse Brauchmann, who faints on his doorstep.
Ilse intrigues all of the shopkeepers on Unity Street, particularly Frank’s teenaged assistant, Kit. Although Frank tries to deny it, Ilse also fascinates him to the point that he is rarely thinking of anything else. But what concerns him most is that he cannot pinpoint what piece of music she ought to listen to. When questioned, Ilse admits she knows nothing about music and begs Frank to give her lessons. These lessons have nothing to do with instruments – Frank is the least qualified to teach such a thing – but about how to listen to music. How to hear the pauses in classical pieces; understand the meaning behind Beethoven’s sonatas; feel the passion behind punk music; learn to love a number of composers for the things many people miss.
The longer Frank spends around Ilse, the more he begins to fall in love. However, love is something Frank denies himself ever since the death of his mother fifteen years previously. Written in italics are flashback chapters explaining how Frank’s love of music came about, his relationship with his mother, and how he ended up as a dead-end vinyl seller. Due to his fear of intimate relationships, Frank keeps pushing Ilse away until, one day, he realises how much he needs her. But, he may have left it too late.
<i>The Music Shop</i> is split into four sections, or sides (a reference to vinyl records). Side A introduces the characters and settings during a wintery January when Frank is beginning to struggle with the competition caused by the recently opened Woolworths on the nearby high street. Sides B and C focus on the development of Frank and Ilse’s friendship, the secrets they hide from each other and the foreboding sense of disaster hanging over the one-of-a-kind music shop.
As Frank begins to realise how much Ilse means to him, the sudden appearance of side D will break readers’ hearts. Whilst sides A, B and C take place in 1988, side D jumps forward 21 years to 2009. It appears Frank and Ilse never got the relationship they deserved. Two unhappy decades have been and gone, demolishing any resemblance of the way life used to be. However, because there is a side D, readers can only hope it will result in a happy ending.
<i>The Music Shop</i> is a love story between two quiet, modest characters whose past and present circumstances get in the way of a peaceful future. However, it is not only a piece of romantic fiction. Rachel Joyce writes a message in story format about second chances and being brave. Learning to listen does not only apply to music, it applies to hearing what other people are saying and what they are not; most importantly, the book urges people to listen to themselves.
The research undertaken for this novel is phenomenal. For starters, it is set almost thirty years ago when vinyl was only beginning to go out of fashion. The quality of music and the access people had to it was extremely different to the simplicity of today where it is possible to download everything at the press of a button. The breadth of music genre is as wide as possible. Every type of music is covered from Handel’s <i>Messiah</i> to Aretha Franklin and The Sex Pistols. To be able to discuss such a range without falling into stereotypes is a feat worthy of congratulating.
<i>The Music Shop</i> far surpasses anything Rachel Joyce has written so far. The story is fragile in a beautiful way, its delicacy causing the reader to treat it with care, rather than rush through it like some mundane piece of fiction. It will interest a whole host of readers: male and female, music lovers and those with a preference for silence. Whoever you are, be prepared to take something away from this distinctive, outstanding novel.
From the author of <i>The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry </i>comes a unique and beautiful story about music and learning how to listen. <i>The Music Shop</i> by Rachel Joyce takes readers on a journey through the developing music world of the late 1980s when CDs are beginning to wipe out all other means of recording music – a complete disaster for someone like Frank, the owner of the music shop, who only sells vinyl.
The book begins in 1988 in a crumbling down street where shopkeepers are barely making enough money to survive. Frank’s shop is one of the few remaining and, despite everything against him, is determined to keep going. Not only does he sell vinyl records, Frank has an empathetic gift allowing him to sense exactly what a customer needs to listen to, even though they may not realise it themselves. However, one day, Frank’s world is turned upside down by the arrival of a young German woman, Ilse Brauchmann, who faints on his doorstep.
Ilse intrigues all of the shopkeepers on Unity Street, particularly Frank’s teenaged assistant, Kit. Although Frank tries to deny it, Ilse also fascinates him to the point that he is rarely thinking of anything else. But what concerns him most is that he cannot pinpoint what piece of music she ought to listen to. When questioned, Ilse admits she knows nothing about music and begs Frank to give her lessons. These lessons have nothing to do with instruments – Frank is the least qualified to teach such a thing – but about how to listen to music. How to hear the pauses in classical pieces; understand the meaning behind Beethoven’s sonatas; feel the passion behind punk music; learn to love a number of composers for the things many people miss.
The longer Frank spends around Ilse, the more he begins to fall in love. However, love is something Frank denies himself ever since the death of his mother fifteen years previously. Written in italics are flashback chapters explaining how Frank’s love of music came about, his relationship with his mother, and how he ended up as a dead-end vinyl seller. Due to his fear of intimate relationships, Frank keeps pushing Ilse away until, one day, he realises how much he needs her. But, he may have left it too late.
<i>The Music Shop</i> is split into four sections, or sides (a reference to vinyl records). Side A introduces the characters and settings during a wintery January when Frank is beginning to struggle with the competition caused by the recently opened Woolworths on the nearby high street. Sides B and C focus on the development of Frank and Ilse’s friendship, the secrets they hide from each other and the foreboding sense of disaster hanging over the one-of-a-kind music shop.
As Frank begins to realise how much Ilse means to him, the sudden appearance of side D will break readers’ hearts. Whilst sides A, B and C take place in 1988, side D jumps forward 21 years to 2009. It appears Frank and Ilse never got the relationship they deserved. Two unhappy decades have been and gone, demolishing any resemblance of the way life used to be. However, because there is a side D, readers can only hope it will result in a happy ending.
<i>The Music Shop</i> is a love story between two quiet, modest characters whose past and present circumstances get in the way of a peaceful future. However, it is not only a piece of romantic fiction. Rachel Joyce writes a message in story format about second chances and being brave. Learning to listen does not only apply to music, it applies to hearing what other people are saying and what they are not; most importantly, the book urges people to listen to themselves.
The research undertaken for this novel is phenomenal. For starters, it is set almost thirty years ago when vinyl was only beginning to go out of fashion. The quality of music and the access people had to it was extremely different to the simplicity of today where it is possible to download everything at the press of a button. The breadth of music genre is as wide as possible. Every type of music is covered from Handel’s <i>Messiah</i> to Aretha Franklin and The Sex Pistols. To be able to discuss such a range without falling into stereotypes is a feat worthy of congratulating.
<i>The Music Shop</i> far surpasses anything Rachel Joyce has written so far. The story is fragile in a beautiful way, its delicacy causing the reader to treat it with care, rather than rush through it like some mundane piece of fiction. It will interest a whole host of readers: male and female, music lovers and those with a preference for silence. Whoever you are, be prepared to take something away from this distinctive, outstanding novel.
The first half of The Serpent and the Moon mainly deals with Francois I's reign as king and has little to do with the love triangle. Frankly, the whole book itself hasn't much to do with the love triangle or "one of the great love stories of all time," but more to do with the political intrigue of Henri I and his father's reigns. Oh, and lest I forget, Henri, Diane, and both of their symbols, monograms, etc. I honestly don't know what the whole fascination of that was all about, but it showed up everywhere.
On page 187 the princess tells us that it is a man's way of thinking that Diane wouldn't have become Henri's mistress if he hadn't become dauphin. I disagree, it is a realist's view, and frankly, I think it's fully possible that was how it started. Yes, maybe she was flattered by his attention too, but to consider having him as a lover in light of how much she was in his life growing up, it's a bit creepy. Oedipus comes to mind. I believe he was infatuated with her from a young age and it most likely progressed into love, for both of them. I envision her grabbing the chance at being the mistress of a king and being older, she knew how to mould and persuade him. Whether or not it was a true love story, I really don't know; I'm not sure anyone does and I don't care all that much.
As many other reviewers have stated, there is an obvious bias. The readers are warned in the introduction, but even if you know that, there's still the possibility that the work as a whole might be neutral. Unfortunately, that's not the case. Maybe if it had only been a slight bias, I wouldn't have cared so much, but when an author heaps praise on one person and how they accomplish everything, and then turn around and bash someone else for the exact same thing. Well, that's just hypocrisy.
From the book, the author would have you believe that Diane de Poitiers got to where she was merely by being a good, honest, gracious, and pious woman and Catherine de' Medici did it by being a cold, heartless, evil, spiteful person. I'm sorry but you cannot have climbed to the heights Diane did, especially in those times, without being conniving in one way or the other. I'm sure she did the same things Catherine did, so quit holding Diane up on a pedestal; she's really not a goddess, just a woman. Diane is a white light, Catherine is black as death and there isn't any grey between them for most of the book. By the end of the book I really took the "history" lightly, mainly that of these two women, more than anything else; it was just an unfair assessment. And with the author's snarky and catty remarks directed towards Catherine, saying she has a "fat little heart," well, that was just uncalled for. Then at the end, her words were so disgusting about Catherine's behavior towards Diane, saying how petty she was and she did things purely due to "feminine spite". Catherine could have done much worse to her but she didn't! Of course, Ms. Perfect D. was always so respectful and exemplary of Catherine. Give me a break. Maybe some of the things said in the book were true about both women, but then again, maybe not. Most is lost to history.
If Princess Michael of Kent's plan was for me to sympathize and idolize Diane de Poitiers, as she does, it backfired. Now I don't ever care to ever hear about her again, and I love history of all kinds. On the other hand, I have already ordered two books about Catherine de' Medici from the library. Most likely the opposite of what she wanted. I honestly don't blame Catherine if she was bitter, who wouldn't be in that situation? Even if it was a different time, circumstance, and an arranged marriage? I refuse to believe Diane was this perfect being, a goddess, virtuous as can be, a victim - nobody is all these things and I don't know why the author cannot see any imperfections and insists on romanticizing her.
Even though I hated how biased this book was, I still appreciate the amount of research this must have taken, it was fairly well-written in form, and there was loads of information. I'd only recommend this to Catherine haters, loathers, or serious dislikers. With the princess's flair for the dramatic and speculation on feelings and actions, she might want to focus on writing works of fiction instead. I have no desire to read anything by this author again.
On page 187 the princess tells us that it is a man's way of thinking that Diane wouldn't have become Henri's mistress if he hadn't become dauphin. I disagree, it is a realist's view, and frankly, I think it's fully possible that was how it started. Yes, maybe she was flattered by his attention too, but to consider having him as a lover in light of how much she was in his life growing up, it's a bit creepy. Oedipus comes to mind. I believe he was infatuated with her from a young age and it most likely progressed into love, for both of them. I envision her grabbing the chance at being the mistress of a king and being older, she knew how to mould and persuade him. Whether or not it was a true love story, I really don't know; I'm not sure anyone does and I don't care all that much.
As many other reviewers have stated, there is an obvious bias. The readers are warned in the introduction, but even if you know that, there's still the possibility that the work as a whole might be neutral. Unfortunately, that's not the case. Maybe if it had only been a slight bias, I wouldn't have cared so much, but when an author heaps praise on one person and how they accomplish everything, and then turn around and bash someone else for the exact same thing. Well, that's just hypocrisy.
From the book, the author would have you believe that Diane de Poitiers got to where she was merely by being a good, honest, gracious, and pious woman and Catherine de' Medici did it by being a cold, heartless, evil, spiteful person. I'm sorry but you cannot have climbed to the heights Diane did, especially in those times, without being conniving in one way or the other. I'm sure she did the same things Catherine did, so quit holding Diane up on a pedestal; she's really not a goddess, just a woman. Diane is a white light, Catherine is black as death and there isn't any grey between them for most of the book. By the end of the book I really took the "history" lightly, mainly that of these two women, more than anything else; it was just an unfair assessment. And with the author's snarky and catty remarks directed towards Catherine, saying she has a "fat little heart," well, that was just uncalled for. Then at the end, her words were so disgusting about Catherine's behavior towards Diane, saying how petty she was and she did things purely due to "feminine spite". Catherine could have done much worse to her but she didn't! Of course, Ms. Perfect D. was always so respectful and exemplary of Catherine. Give me a break. Maybe some of the things said in the book were true about both women, but then again, maybe not. Most is lost to history.
If Princess Michael of Kent's plan was for me to sympathize and idolize Diane de Poitiers, as she does, it backfired. Now I don't ever care to ever hear about her again, and I love history of all kinds. On the other hand, I have already ordered two books about Catherine de' Medici from the library. Most likely the opposite of what she wanted. I honestly don't blame Catherine if she was bitter, who wouldn't be in that situation? Even if it was a different time, circumstance, and an arranged marriage? I refuse to believe Diane was this perfect being, a goddess, virtuous as can be, a victim - nobody is all these things and I don't know why the author cannot see any imperfections and insists on romanticizing her.
Even though I hated how biased this book was, I still appreciate the amount of research this must have taken, it was fairly well-written in form, and there was loads of information. I'd only recommend this to Catherine haters, loathers, or serious dislikers. With the princess's flair for the dramatic and speculation on feelings and actions, she might want to focus on writing works of fiction instead. I have no desire to read anything by this author again.
Haley Mathiot (9 KP) rated The Wolf Next Door (Westfield Wolves, #3) in Books
Apr 27, 2018
The Wolf Next Door by Lydia Dare
Genre: Paranormal werewolf romance, historical fiction
ISBN:9781402236969
Published: June 1st 2010 by Sourcebooks Casablanca
Rating:
Years ago, William Westfield and Pricia Hawthorne were in love—but Pricia's heart was broken and she refuses to let the scoundrel forget it. She knows now that he never committed the accused crime… but she can't bare to give her heart to him again. Even though she wants to.
Will has established his reputation as the best lover in six centuries. And he knows he did it to get Pricia out of his head. He still loves and adores her, snotty remarks and spirited personality and rule-breaking attitude and all. But when he is forced to visit the Hawthorne house to escort his sisters-in-law, he discovers that another man—another Lycan man—is pursuing her hand in marriage. Will doesn't think: The games are over. He decides that he will do anything and everything to keep the other werewolf away, and claim her forever.
This was, out of the three Westfield stories, my favorite. From the time I started reading, I couldn't put it down. It was fast-paced, exciting, and romantic. Although can I say that the covers—for this one and the others—could have been better? Still, I loved the story.
Will has always been my favorite Westfield, because of his happy, funny, warm, laid-back personality… and I loved seeing him desperately in love, trying his hardest to charm Pricia's socks off. Pricia is my favorite kind of heroine: the kind that can hold her own, especially with five brothers. Put Will and Pricia together, and you have an epic couple: They love each other, they hate each other. But they only hate each other because they love each other… a never-ending circle, a never-ending conversation, and a never-ending story… but a very satisfying ending to the book.
The plot was a lot more exciting than Dare's other werewolf stories—not to say the others aren't exciting. But this one surpassed the others. The other Lycan threatening Will's happiness added a good conflict to the story. Pricia's execution of torture on poor Will was both pitiful and hilarious. There was a war going on between the two wolves, and a war going on between the lovers, and it made for a stay-up-until-3-AM kind of book.
One of the reasons this one was probably my favorite, was because it wasn't sappy. I'm not saying the others are: but there was this running theme of the woman telling the man she was in love with him, and the man not admitting it until way too late, and causing problems because of it. There was none of that in The Wolf Next Door. Will straight up told Pricia that he loved her. He told her father he loved her. He told his brothers, and her brothers, that he loved her. And it made their romance much better and much more believable.
Magic, romance, heart-break, rivals, witches, and true love…all tied together with a sweet, naive, innocent little devil, and a very handsome werewolf. This one is begging to be re-read.
Content/recommendation: Little language, some sex. Ages 18+
Genre: Paranormal werewolf romance, historical fiction
ISBN:9781402236969
Published: June 1st 2010 by Sourcebooks Casablanca
Rating:
Years ago, William Westfield and Pricia Hawthorne were in love—but Pricia's heart was broken and she refuses to let the scoundrel forget it. She knows now that he never committed the accused crime… but she can't bare to give her heart to him again. Even though she wants to.
Will has established his reputation as the best lover in six centuries. And he knows he did it to get Pricia out of his head. He still loves and adores her, snotty remarks and spirited personality and rule-breaking attitude and all. But when he is forced to visit the Hawthorne house to escort his sisters-in-law, he discovers that another man—another Lycan man—is pursuing her hand in marriage. Will doesn't think: The games are over. He decides that he will do anything and everything to keep the other werewolf away, and claim her forever.
This was, out of the three Westfield stories, my favorite. From the time I started reading, I couldn't put it down. It was fast-paced, exciting, and romantic. Although can I say that the covers—for this one and the others—could have been better? Still, I loved the story.
Will has always been my favorite Westfield, because of his happy, funny, warm, laid-back personality… and I loved seeing him desperately in love, trying his hardest to charm Pricia's socks off. Pricia is my favorite kind of heroine: the kind that can hold her own, especially with five brothers. Put Will and Pricia together, and you have an epic couple: They love each other, they hate each other. But they only hate each other because they love each other… a never-ending circle, a never-ending conversation, and a never-ending story… but a very satisfying ending to the book.
The plot was a lot more exciting than Dare's other werewolf stories—not to say the others aren't exciting. But this one surpassed the others. The other Lycan threatening Will's happiness added a good conflict to the story. Pricia's execution of torture on poor Will was both pitiful and hilarious. There was a war going on between the two wolves, and a war going on between the lovers, and it made for a stay-up-until-3-AM kind of book.
One of the reasons this one was probably my favorite, was because it wasn't sappy. I'm not saying the others are: but there was this running theme of the woman telling the man she was in love with him, and the man not admitting it until way too late, and causing problems because of it. There was none of that in The Wolf Next Door. Will straight up told Pricia that he loved her. He told her father he loved her. He told his brothers, and her brothers, that he loved her. And it made their romance much better and much more believable.
Magic, romance, heart-break, rivals, witches, and true love…all tied together with a sweet, naive, innocent little devil, and a very handsome werewolf. This one is begging to be re-read.
Content/recommendation: Little language, some sex. Ages 18+
Erratic.
To begin with I should point out that I listened to this rather than read it, and I have to say that I found (not for the first time with American audiobooks) that the narrator detracted from the story. They chose a woman with a very slow, drawling delivery which in some ways, I imagine, was intended to emphasise the sunny, laid-back easy-going stereotype of the late 60's hippy movement. Unfortunately the actual effect was to make the book drag.
Beyond that the content of the book itself was a mixed bag of the pleasurable and the pointless.
Where Cline excelles in this book is in her portrayal of a normal adolescent female trying to fit the role society has dictated for her. It's important to note that Evie is normal - she's not in the small group of incredibly popular, socially adept, fashionably en point and appropriately presented girls of the moment, nor is she so far away from the 'norm' that she is considered especially weird. She falls firmly within the parameters of 'normal' girls who are just struggling with the 'project of their girlhood'. Nor is it just girls that Cline succeeds in painting an accurate picture of - the tribulations of Evie's mother (newley divorced and struggling to realise the relevance and attraction that society expects from her again) speak to the ongoing and endless demands of a civilisation that puts endless pressure on it's female members to adhere to a very narrow and sharply defined criteria in order to be 'acceptable'. This pressure is something I imagine most female readers of this book will relate to, regardless of age, because, of course, it is still very much a daily aspect of most girls' and womens' lives; some possibly even recognising individual situations in which they have been at some stage in their life.
Understanding and empathising with Evie then, it is disconcerting to follow her absorption into the cult; her fascination with the older girls, the ones she later reflects upon as barely more than children themselves; the ease with which she is manipulated through her desire to please her new friends and to defy her mother; the lies sher emotional side is sold and accepts, even as her more rational mind recognises that they are lies...
These are the things Cline excelles in. I can honestly say I have never read an more accurate depiction of clumsy, normal female adolescence.
Unfortunately interspersed through these parts are large tracts of pointless and incredibly, horribly flowery waffle that don't really add anything else to the story other than to repeat, endlessly the message that 'the girl who was part of the cult' had a sad and unfulfilling life afterwards.The message that she screwed up could have been delivered successfully at the beginning and reinforced at the end - it didn't need that kind of repetition.
Overall I would say that for fans of general fiction (which I'm not), and teen readers (which I am also not), this is probably a good read, just expect it to drag at times. It's not one I shall be revisiting.
Beyond that the content of the book itself was a mixed bag of the pleasurable and the pointless.
Where Cline excelles in this book is in her portrayal of a normal adolescent female trying to fit the role society has dictated for her. It's important to note that Evie is normal - she's not in the small group of incredibly popular, socially adept, fashionably en point and appropriately presented girls of the moment, nor is she so far away from the 'norm' that she is considered especially weird. She falls firmly within the parameters of 'normal' girls who are just struggling with the 'project of their girlhood'. Nor is it just girls that Cline succeeds in painting an accurate picture of - the tribulations of Evie's mother (newley divorced and struggling to realise the relevance and attraction that society expects from her again) speak to the ongoing and endless demands of a civilisation that puts endless pressure on it's female members to adhere to a very narrow and sharply defined criteria in order to be 'acceptable'. This pressure is something I imagine most female readers of this book will relate to, regardless of age, because, of course, it is still very much a daily aspect of most girls' and womens' lives; some possibly even recognising individual situations in which they have been at some stage in their life.
Understanding and empathising with Evie then, it is disconcerting to follow her absorption into the cult; her fascination with the older girls, the ones she later reflects upon as barely more than children themselves; the ease with which she is manipulated through her desire to please her new friends and to defy her mother; the lies sher emotional side is sold and accepts, even as her more rational mind recognises that they are lies...
These are the things Cline excelles in. I can honestly say I have never read an more accurate depiction of clumsy, normal female adolescence.
Unfortunately interspersed through these parts are large tracts of pointless and incredibly, horribly flowery waffle that don't really add anything else to the story other than to repeat, endlessly the message that 'the girl who was part of the cult' had a sad and unfulfilling life afterwards.The message that she screwed up could have been delivered successfully at the beginning and reinforced at the end - it didn't need that kind of repetition.
Overall I would say that for fans of general fiction (which I'm not), and teen readers (which I am also not), this is probably a good read, just expect it to drag at times. It's not one I shall be revisiting.
Heather Cranmer (2721 KP) rated Oh Dear Silvia in Books
Jun 7, 2018
I received this book for free through the Goodreads Firstreads program.
(This review can also be found on my blog <a href="http://themisadventuresofatwentysomething.blogspot.co.uk">The (Mis)Adventures of a Twenty-Something Year Old Girl</a>).
I love Dawn French! I think she is such a funny woman!! I was so happy to have won a copy of her fiction book entitled Oh Dear Silvia from Goodreads. However, once I started reading the book, it became apparent that I wasn't going to enjoy it.
Silvia is in a coma after falling from a balcony and hitting her head. Throughout her time in hospital, she is visited by family, her best friend, her ex-husband, her nurse, and her cleaner. Each has their own story to tell however odd it may be. Throughout this book, we will find out about who Silvia is.
The title of this book really works. After reading the book, I would say it definitely fits well with the story.
The cover of this book is quite bland. The tree on the cover of the book does have significance, but it's just rather boring. It wouldn't entice me to pick up this book to see what it's about. Surely, the cover could've been a bit more decorative.
The setting takes place mostly in suite 5 which is Silvia's room in hospital. The world building is alright. The memories of each visitor help set the story.
I found the pacing of Oh Dear Silvia to be extremely and painfully slow. At some points, I found myself skim reading the especially boring parts. I couldn't wait for this book to be over. There's not even one bit in this book where the pacing picks up. There's no real plot in this book, so there's definitely no plot twists. The pacing definitely lets this book down.
The dialogue is comedic at times which I found to be a small reprieve from the slowness of this book. Ed's dialogue really bored me.
The characters are well-developed which I found to be a relief. Each chapter of the book is told by someone who knows Silvia. The main characters that have their own chapters being Ed, Cat, Jo, Cassie, Winnie, and Tia. Ed is by far the most boring character that could ever be in a book. All he mostly talks about is his boring trees. Whilst I did find him to be a well-developed character, I found him extremely dull and found myself wishing that he'd just stop talking. Winnie and Tia were my favourite characters. Winnie has a big heart, and it really comes across in this book. Tia is from Indonesia so has a hard time pronouncing Silvia's surname which always made me laugh!! I found Tia and Jo to be the characters that brought the humour, and they delivered! Cat is the high strung character, and Cassie is the angry daughter. Each character has a unique personality. Well done to Dawn French for making each character unique! Through each of the characters' stories, we learn more and more about Silvia.
Even with the strong character personalities and comedic timing, this book still fell flat. I felt that this book was missing a plot. Oh Dear Silvia comes across more as a memoir about Silvia then anything else.
I wouldn't recommend this book to anyone except those who need help falling asleep. Dawn French is great, but this book just didn't do it for me.
(This review can also be found on my blog <a href="http://themisadventuresofatwentysomething.blogspot.co.uk">The (Mis)Adventures of a Twenty-Something Year Old Girl</a>).
I love Dawn French! I think she is such a funny woman!! I was so happy to have won a copy of her fiction book entitled Oh Dear Silvia from Goodreads. However, once I started reading the book, it became apparent that I wasn't going to enjoy it.
Silvia is in a coma after falling from a balcony and hitting her head. Throughout her time in hospital, she is visited by family, her best friend, her ex-husband, her nurse, and her cleaner. Each has their own story to tell however odd it may be. Throughout this book, we will find out about who Silvia is.
The title of this book really works. After reading the book, I would say it definitely fits well with the story.
The cover of this book is quite bland. The tree on the cover of the book does have significance, but it's just rather boring. It wouldn't entice me to pick up this book to see what it's about. Surely, the cover could've been a bit more decorative.
The setting takes place mostly in suite 5 which is Silvia's room in hospital. The world building is alright. The memories of each visitor help set the story.
I found the pacing of Oh Dear Silvia to be extremely and painfully slow. At some points, I found myself skim reading the especially boring parts. I couldn't wait for this book to be over. There's not even one bit in this book where the pacing picks up. There's no real plot in this book, so there's definitely no plot twists. The pacing definitely lets this book down.
The dialogue is comedic at times which I found to be a small reprieve from the slowness of this book. Ed's dialogue really bored me.
The characters are well-developed which I found to be a relief. Each chapter of the book is told by someone who knows Silvia. The main characters that have their own chapters being Ed, Cat, Jo, Cassie, Winnie, and Tia. Ed is by far the most boring character that could ever be in a book. All he mostly talks about is his boring trees. Whilst I did find him to be a well-developed character, I found him extremely dull and found myself wishing that he'd just stop talking. Winnie and Tia were my favourite characters. Winnie has a big heart, and it really comes across in this book. Tia is from Indonesia so has a hard time pronouncing Silvia's surname which always made me laugh!! I found Tia and Jo to be the characters that brought the humour, and they delivered! Cat is the high strung character, and Cassie is the angry daughter. Each character has a unique personality. Well done to Dawn French for making each character unique! Through each of the characters' stories, we learn more and more about Silvia.
Even with the strong character personalities and comedic timing, this book still fell flat. I felt that this book was missing a plot. Oh Dear Silvia comes across more as a memoir about Silvia then anything else.
I wouldn't recommend this book to anyone except those who need help falling asleep. Dawn French is great, but this book just didn't do it for me.