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michellereadatrix's reviews
761 reviews
Astrid Parker Doesn't Fail by Ashley Herring Blake
emotional
funny
hopeful
lighthearted
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.75
A Step Past Darkness by Vera Kurian
dark
mysterious
tense
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
2.5
I like Vera Kurian as an author, and LOVED Never Saw Me Coming. I still hype that book. I saw the author do a panel a couple years ago -- Bouchercon 2022? -- and she really sold me on Never Saw Me Coming and this lead to my well-annotated and tabbed copy.
I enjoyed so much in A Step Past Darkness, but I found it plagued with pacing issues, and one segment really detracted from the story for me, to the point that I seriously considered DNFing.
The blurb on the back of the book really buries that there's a strong supernatural thread in this story that moves it more into horror than thriller. I'm cool with this because I read and love horror, and that this book pays homage to It (Stephen King) isn't exactly something I'm going to complain about. Still, if it weren't my thing, I'd feel deceived and possibly annoyed.
I would love to read more books with a supernatural element from this author.
The places where this story overlaps or echoes It are the best parts for me. Not because I find it derivative, or because these aspects weren't strong on their own, but because these are some of my favorite tropes of all time.
I love stories about strong friendships in childhood. I love the idea of having to face childhood fears again in adulthood. I seek out books that understand that not everyone is listened to equally -- that some characters have the added complication of being a part of a group or groups with less power, less chance of being believed.
Children/teens are one of those groups. I'm always going to love when a group comes together to be more than the sum of their parts, and to support one another.
And I sentimentally love the thought of childhood friends reuniting, even if it's to face danger. I watch the original made-for-TV "It" for those relationships. It's a weird comfort movie, but here we are.
I cared about these characters, and where they would end up. I initially cared a lot about the central mystery, but a lot of that interest waned with time. Early on, we find out one of the main characters dies. Maddy. Hey, it's in the blurb. I really appreciated the handling of this character. We meet her as a pious Regina George, but she is written in a way that made me root for her. But this author made me root for a psychopath one time. But I hated that she died, in the best way. I think it would have packed a bigger punch if the layout of the ... well, next paragraph,
The book is dual timelines. The first timeline finds our characters teens in 1995 and the second timeline is them again in 2015. All the main characters get POV chapters in both timelines. The book jumps back and forth between the timelines.
I'm into the dual timelines, as should be clear, but I think I needed the story to be linear. With the POVs and the jumping back and forth it sometimes made it feel like there was no momentum. in either year. And on occasion we had to cover the same ground twice. In 2015, because we hadn't arrived at the moment in 1995, details were revealed in order to make sense that we eventually have to read in 1995. Again, it messed with the sense of momentum, and added unnecessary pages. (I've read some tomes in my time, but these 502 pages made it the longest book of 2024 so far.)
The part that really detracted for me felt discordant with the rest of the book in a way that my enjoyment never rallied from. The most non-spoilery way I can communicate this is that there's a portion of the story where we find out a lot of the back story about what's going on, but it feels very tonally different. Scripted. Obviously, this is all fiction, but in a novel it felt like for a while we were in a 90s TV show where the characters need to know things fast, so they're for the time of this episode going to stumble upon just what they need, no more because they'll be swept to the next thing they need to know, and be helped to do so in a way that when transferred to another medium reveals the artificiality of it all.
As much as I become immersed in a novel, I don't quite forget it's a novel, but I suspend disbelief. I invest in that world, and the general underpinnings of novels. This portion asked me to abide by a different set of rules and underpinnings and made me hyper-aware this is all made up. I specify a 90s show because novels, TV, and cinema (why do I hear this in the voice of Lazslo from What We Do in the Shadows?) today are more stylistically similar.
I hated this shift so much that I put the book aside for a couple days. I saw I had 10 days left on the library loan, silently apologized to the 5 people waiting, and took some time. I didn't DNF because I really did care about these characters, but it was never the same.
I in no way think this issue is going to be universal. I in no way want to discourage anyone from reading a book that really has a lot going for it because of my issue. I'm truly only sharing my stumbling block.
The bad guy provided some chills, but he wasn't Pennywise scary, by any means, and I would have liked this amped up, to be honest.
Spoilers about the ending, various events, and the season 3 finale of Buffy. Honestly, only read this if you've read the book.The ending, if I'm not missing anything, was extremely happy under the circumstances. I realize it would have been stronger if Jia had died, and it feels like a cop out that she didn't, but I can't be mad. I wanted this characters to be okay. I wish Maddy could have been okay. And Milky, who seems to have died of old age, but I still want a miracle. When the pastor died, it reminded me of how the mayor died on Buffy -- with that moment of, "Well, I guess that's that." That's the type of 90s TV reference I love! I will choose to believe that was intentional.
I'm horrible at summing up. Good book with tropes I like. Pacing was a bit slow. Horror could have been more horrifying. One thing that really bugged me. Would love to see more horror by Vera Kurian, or anything, really. I want to follow these characters forever, but instead will wish them well in all future endeavors. The next person in line for this book at the library is going to wake up to a nice surprise -- unless they're like me and have a ridiculous amount of books on hold.
I enjoyed so much in A Step Past Darkness, but I found it plagued with pacing issues, and one segment really detracted from the story for me, to the point that I seriously considered DNFing.
The blurb on the back of the book really buries that there's a strong supernatural thread in this story that moves it more into horror than thriller. I'm cool with this because I read and love horror, and that this book pays homage to It (Stephen King) isn't exactly something I'm going to complain about. Still, if it weren't my thing, I'd feel deceived and possibly annoyed.
I would love to read more books with a supernatural element from this author.
The places where this story overlaps or echoes It are the best parts for me. Not because I find it derivative, or because these aspects weren't strong on their own, but because these are some of my favorite tropes of all time.
I love stories about strong friendships in childhood. I love the idea of having to face childhood fears again in adulthood. I seek out books that understand that not everyone is listened to equally -- that some characters have the added complication of being a part of a group or groups with less power, less chance of being believed.
Children/teens are one of those groups. I'm always going to love when a group comes together to be more than the sum of their parts, and to support one another.
And I sentimentally love the thought of childhood friends reuniting, even if it's to face danger. I watch the original made-for-TV "It" for those relationships. It's a weird comfort movie, but here we are.
I cared about these characters, and where they would end up. I initially cared a lot about the central mystery, but a lot of that interest waned with time. Early on, we find out one of the main characters dies. Maddy. Hey, it's in the blurb. I really appreciated the handling of this character. We meet her as a pious Regina George, but she is written in a way that made me root for her. But this author made me root for a psychopath one time. But I hated that she died, in the best way. I think it would have packed a bigger punch if the layout of the ... well, next paragraph,
The book is dual timelines. The first timeline finds our characters teens in 1995 and the second timeline is them again in 2015. All the main characters get POV chapters in both timelines. The book jumps back and forth between the timelines.
I'm into the dual timelines, as should be clear, but I think I needed the story to be linear. With the POVs and the jumping back and forth it sometimes made it feel like there was no momentum. in either year. And on occasion we had to cover the same ground twice. In 2015, because we hadn't arrived at the moment in 1995, details were revealed in order to make sense that we eventually have to read in 1995. Again, it messed with the sense of momentum, and added unnecessary pages. (I've read some tomes in my time, but these 502 pages made it the longest book of 2024 so far.)
The part that really detracted for me felt discordant with the rest of the book in a way that my enjoyment never rallied from. The most non-spoilery way I can communicate this is that there's a portion of the story where we find out a lot of the back story about what's going on, but it feels very tonally different. Scripted. Obviously, this is all fiction, but in a novel it felt like for a while we were in a 90s TV show where the characters need to know things fast, so they're for the time of this episode going to stumble upon just what they need, no more because they'll be swept to the next thing they need to know, and be helped to do so in a way that when transferred to another medium reveals the artificiality of it all.
As much as I become immersed in a novel, I don't quite forget it's a novel, but I suspend disbelief. I invest in that world, and the general underpinnings of novels. This portion asked me to abide by a different set of rules and underpinnings and made me hyper-aware this is all made up. I specify a 90s show because novels, TV, and cinema (why do I hear this in the voice of Lazslo from What We Do in the Shadows?) today are more stylistically similar.
I hated this shift so much that I put the book aside for a couple days. I saw I had 10 days left on the library loan, silently apologized to the 5 people waiting, and took some time. I didn't DNF because I really did care about these characters, but it was never the same.
I in no way think this issue is going to be universal. I in no way want to discourage anyone from reading a book that really has a lot going for it because of my issue. I'm truly only sharing my stumbling block.
The bad guy provided some chills, but he wasn't Pennywise scary, by any means, and I would have liked this amped up, to be honest.
Spoilers about the ending, various events, and the season 3 finale of Buffy. Honestly, only read this if you've read the book.
I'm horrible at summing up. Good book with tropes I like. Pacing was a bit slow. Horror could have been more horrifying. One thing that really bugged me. Would love to see more horror by Vera Kurian, or anything, really. I want to follow these characters forever, but instead will wish them well in all future endeavors. The next person in line for this book at the library is going to wake up to a nice surprise -- unless they're like me and have a ridiculous amount of books on hold.
No Strings Attached by Harper Bliss
hopeful
inspiring
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
2.25
Sour Candy by Kealan Patrick Burke
dark
sad
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.25
Genuinely creepy and quite readable, but also a bit derivative, and doesn't hold up to too much contemplation. (Contemplation makes it all so much sillier and absurd.) Also, the premise isn't fully explored. Weird vibe toward women.
A happily childless man goes on a chocolate run in order to have a lazy, happy day on the couch with his equally-happy-to-be-childless girlfriend. He sees a harried woman with a screaming child. He makes himself known. Soon the woman is dead, and he's somehow the child's dad.
The set-up is good, and it flows in the way horror stories tend to do -- with an inevitable March toward "How am I doing? Not great!"
Sour Candy starts out very stylistically (Stephen) Kingesque. The main character even drops a "tough titty said the kitty" reference, which -- trust -- is a phrase King has used a lot. Where it bothered me is that this guy survives a car crash, the premise of the story lands on him, he does the rote denial very briefly, and then he becomes strangely omniscient in the midst of chaos. Like, he grasps too much, too fast, about a child who has said maybe 1 sentence to him, or 2. Essentially: If I do this, he'd do that, or make this character do this thing.
Then, the story becomes more Lovecraftian in terms of an alternative world, a lot of red in an alien landscape, tentacles.
The middle of the story is largely about the main character's testing the boundaries and paying the price, but the day-to-day is sketchy. Other than he is only allowed to eat hallucinatory (or revelatory) sour candy, which is wrecking him. In a novella, something has to give, but what gave was making this all as harrowing as it could be.
His time with the boy -- Adam -- is glossed over. He takes him to normal places you take a child and sometimes the child screeches in these situations. That's clever for reasons I'm assuming most people get -- kids are like that, and if you're the caregiver, you are now very much in the spotlight.
It feels like there's more there, though. The people struggling to maintain their sanity as the children screams a store down still ultimately love that child. We know Adam is good at his masquerade and it feels like our main character being lured into caring would have fleshed out the story. His fighting the pull. When he was the other end of this, a witness to this child terrorizing his "mom," he had sympathy, but he was also annoyed, judgemental. Now, it's his turn, and I'm not sure the story went there.
There's another author I was reminded of. Richard Laymon. His books were written with very much the male gaze. This book wasn't fully like tat, but the women were written about in a (lightly) objectifying way in contrast to men. "Attractive, probably used to be attractive, attractive-but-severe."
His girlfriend is all lingerie, sex, and innuendo. I get we're in a novella, and that this probably does read as paradise that is about to be lost through the lens of a straight man when he only has limited space to convey it. But you lose something, too, in not making their relationship more, in not making her more. You lose something for at least some of your women readers. It's the difference between the main character losing a playmate and losing a soulmate.
A couple of exchanges in the book also felt like they were mocking "wokeness." The benefit of the doubt says it was just this guy digging himself deeper to the authorities, looking like a jerk to them by saying the wrong thing, but I don't know.
There's a thing that happens at the end that tends to paint this child as karmic, a punishment, as opposed to completely random, which makes me wonder what's our guy's crime when the next guy is a cop who clearly abuses his daughter and has rage issues. Or maybe in fleshing out that one character it created an unintentional correlation and it all IS random.
Now that I'm thinking about it, I wish the main character were either more admirable or more villainous. A scenario where he was more sexist and more contemptuous of "PC run amuck and parents who let their kids run wild" might have hit. A version where he was a better guy and fully in love with his girlfriend would have hit in a different way.
I really enjoyed reading it. The only thing that bugged me as I read was his omniscience and the male gaze thing, and this wasn't bothering me too much. It's only upon ruminating on it in my sleep -- I do that -- and typing this out that it ages a little more poorly. It's still a pretty good tale, but I'd also not think about it too hard.
A happily childless man goes on a chocolate run in order to have a lazy, happy day on the couch with his equally-happy-to-be-childless girlfriend. He sees a harried woman with a screaming child. He makes himself known. Soon the woman is dead, and he's somehow the child's dad.
The set-up is good, and it flows in the way horror stories tend to do -- with an inevitable March toward "How am I doing? Not great!"
Sour Candy starts out very stylistically (Stephen) Kingesque. The main character even drops a "tough titty said the kitty" reference, which -- trust -- is a phrase King has used a lot. Where it bothered me is that this guy survives a car crash, the premise of the story lands on him, he does the rote denial very briefly, and then he becomes strangely omniscient in the midst of chaos. Like, he grasps too much, too fast, about a child who has said maybe 1 sentence to him, or 2. Essentially: If I do this, he'd do that, or make this character do this thing.
Then, the story becomes more Lovecraftian in terms of an alternative world, a lot of red in an alien landscape, tentacles.
The middle of the story is largely about the main character's testing the boundaries and paying the price, but the day-to-day is sketchy. Other than he is only allowed to eat hallucinatory (or revelatory) sour candy, which is wrecking him. In a novella, something has to give, but what gave was making this all as harrowing as it could be.
His time with the boy -- Adam -- is glossed over. He takes him to normal places you take a child and sometimes the child screeches in these situations. That's clever for reasons I'm assuming most people get -- kids are like that, and if you're the caregiver, you are now very much in the spotlight.
It feels like there's more there, though. The people struggling to maintain their sanity as the children screams a store down still ultimately love that child. We know Adam is good at his masquerade and it feels like our main character being lured into caring would have fleshed out the story. His fighting the pull. When he was the other end of this, a witness to this child terrorizing his "mom," he had sympathy, but he was also annoyed, judgemental. Now, it's his turn, and I'm not sure the story went there.
There's another author I was reminded of. Richard Laymon. His books were written with very much the male gaze. This book wasn't fully like tat, but the women were written about in a (lightly) objectifying way in contrast to men. "Attractive, probably used to be attractive, attractive-but-severe."
His girlfriend is all lingerie, sex, and innuendo. I get we're in a novella, and that this probably does read as paradise that is about to be lost through the lens of a straight man when he only has limited space to convey it. But you lose something, too, in not making their relationship more, in not making her more. You lose something for at least some of your women readers. It's the difference between the main character losing a playmate and losing a soulmate.
A couple of exchanges in the book also felt like they were mocking "wokeness." The benefit of the doubt says it was just this guy digging himself deeper to the authorities, looking like a jerk to them by saying the wrong thing, but I don't know.
There's a thing that happens at the end that tends to paint this child as karmic, a punishment, as opposed to completely random, which makes me wonder what's our guy's crime when
Now that I'm thinking about it, I wish the main character were either more admirable or more villainous. A scenario where he was more sexist and more contemptuous of "PC run amuck and parents who let their kids run wild" might have hit. A version where he was a better guy and fully in love with his girlfriend would have hit in a different way.
I really enjoyed reading it. The only thing that bugged me as I read was his omniscience and the male gaze thing, and this wasn't bothering me too much. It's only upon ruminating on it in my sleep -- I do that -- and typing this out that it ages a little more poorly. It's still a pretty good tale, but I'd also not think about it too hard.
Delicate Condition by Danielle Valentine
dark
funny
mysterious
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
4.75
I enjoyed Delicate Condition from conception to birth, but the last portion -- the epidural most have kicked in -- took it from like to love. (I don't even know what I'm saying here.) I am giving it 5 stars, but I know this is extra subjective. It had themes I'm into, and it's the kind of horror I enjoy, but I know this is niche.
This is presented as a modern day version of Rosemary's Baby. I not only love Rosemary's Baby but recently buddy read it again with my husband. I'm glad of the timing, with RB fresh in my mind as I read DC.
The comparison is apt and I'm sure RB was in Danielle Valentine's mind as she wrote. Ira Levin seemed to have an understanding of how sexism plays a role in Rosemary's isolation, in her sense of powerlessness. Danielle Valentine, understandably, has an even better grasp of all the many wants misogyny manifests.
Anna, our main character, is a wealthy and privileged white woman. Rosemary, to a slightly lesser extent, is the same. Danielle Valentine, however, acknowledges something that probably didn't occur to Ira Levin -- that childbirth is more perilous for women of color, even wealthy women of color. These women are acknowledged and woven into the narrative.
The author can't fully speak for those women, but she can acknowledge them. Our sisters. Now, publishers have to step up to allow all women to be able to tell their stories, to allow women of color to be in the spotlight, to be the main characters. And obviously society and the medical field also need to step up. For all the people who give birth, or struggle to conceive.
(As an aside, I'm also reading Femina, a book about the forgotten women of the middle ages, all the lost voices.)
To an extent, THAT'S the central question of the book. Who looks out for the women that the patriarchy has failed? Especially women at their most vulnerable. Who helps those most in need?
In terms of horror, it's there and there are some scenes that are impactful -- gross or anxiety inducing -- but the author pulls some punches. There are some additional scenes in the back of my copy that had been removed that didn't pull those punches. Essentially, the book is big on it was just a dream/hallucination. Objectively, this feels like a cop-out, but given my own sensitivities, I'm also relieved. Heh, if you read you'll know.
I'd also like to say the editing isn't as tight as it could be, with some inconsistencies and some line editing issues.
But there's a lot of genuine horror moments, many just legitimate pregnancy symptoms and side effects turned up to 11.
I'm childless by choice, but this didn't stop me from rooting for Anna, for rooting for everyone who wants to have children, who has complications on the way, who has been dismissed by medical professionals. (I've experienced the latter, just not in this circumstance.)
Anna's husband is, by the way, the worst. It was interesting to read that a lot of people thought the author was too harsh. I personally laughed. Like, do it again! But spoilers, Darlings.
The explanations for what all had been happening tied together surprisingly nicely. I think it's debatable if, um, well -- you might have your own take on if everyone's choices and actions were justified. The story created a feeling of absolute paranoia very well. I trusted literally no one. I think again without spoiling, we find out that the paranoia is justified, but that there are also forces working in Anna's favor.
This was a library borrow for me, which is about due, and I also see it's available on KU. (And the subject of this season of American Horror Story.) I'm going to return the book to the library as soon as I post this -- there's a waiting line. However, I plan on purchasing my own copy. So, while I know this story won't be everyone's cup of tea, this is my highest praise.
This is presented as a modern day version of Rosemary's Baby. I not only love Rosemary's Baby but recently buddy read it again with my husband. I'm glad of the timing, with RB fresh in my mind as I read DC.
The comparison is apt and I'm sure RB was in Danielle Valentine's mind as she wrote. Ira Levin seemed to have an understanding of how sexism plays a role in Rosemary's isolation, in her sense of powerlessness. Danielle Valentine, understandably, has an even better grasp of all the many wants misogyny manifests.
Anna, our main character, is a wealthy and privileged white woman. Rosemary, to a slightly lesser extent, is the same. Danielle Valentine, however, acknowledges something that probably didn't occur to Ira Levin -- that childbirth is more perilous for women of color, even wealthy women of color. These women are acknowledged and woven into the narrative.
The author can't fully speak for those women, but she can acknowledge them. Our sisters. Now, publishers have to step up to allow all women to be able to tell their stories, to allow women of color to be in the spotlight, to be the main characters. And obviously society and the medical field also need to step up. For all the people who give birth, or struggle to conceive.
(As an aside, I'm also reading Femina, a book about the forgotten women of the middle ages, all the lost voices.)
To an extent, THAT'S the central question of the book. Who looks out for the women that the patriarchy has failed? Especially women at their most vulnerable. Who helps those most in need?
In terms of horror, it's there and there are some scenes that are impactful -- gross or anxiety inducing -- but the author pulls some punches. There are some additional scenes in the back of my copy that had been removed that didn't pull those punches. Essentially, the book is big on it was just a dream/hallucination. Objectively, this feels like a cop-out, but given my own sensitivities, I'm also relieved. Heh, if you read you'll know.
I'd also like to say the editing isn't as tight as it could be, with some inconsistencies and some line editing issues.
But there's a lot of genuine horror moments, many just legitimate pregnancy symptoms and side effects turned up to 11.
I'm childless by choice, but this didn't stop me from rooting for Anna, for rooting for everyone who wants to have children, who has complications on the way, who has been dismissed by medical professionals. (I've experienced the latter, just not in this circumstance.)
Anna's husband is, by the way, the worst. It was interesting to read that a lot of people thought the author was too harsh. I personally laughed. Like, do it again! But spoilers, Darlings.
The explanations for what all had been happening tied together surprisingly nicely. I think it's debatable if, um, well -- you might have your own take on if everyone's choices and actions were justified. The story created a feeling of absolute paranoia very well. I trusted literally no one. I think again without spoiling, we find out that the paranoia is justified, but that there are also forces working in Anna's favor.
This was a library borrow for me, which is about due, and I also see it's available on KU. (And the subject of this season of American Horror Story.) I'm going to return the book to the library as soon as I post this -- there's a waiting line. However, I plan on purchasing my own copy. So, while I know this story won't be everyone's cup of tea, this is my highest praise.
Night of the Mannequins by Stephen Graham Jones
funny
mysterious
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.0
Minor Detail by Adania Shibli
dark
emotional
reflective
sad
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
5.0
I read/listened to this a couple weeks ago. It devastated me at the time. It devastates me now.
The story is in 2 parts. The first part is from the POV of an Israeli soldier, I don't remember his exact rank, except that he had authority, as he discovers a Bedouin girl. It's based on a real case, and we see the tragic end of this child. I say child because the actual girl seems to have been under 15.
The tone of this first part is very matter of fact. This man is cold, emotionless, fastidious, and regimented, and so this is the way the story is expressed even as atrocities happen. As he allows and participates in atrocities.
The second portion is the story of a Palestinian woman who reads an account of the first part of the story, and realizes this happened on her birthday, albeit a different year. She feels compelled to find out more, even though this involves her going to places forbidden to her by the occupation.
She is not as detached as the man in the first portion, and yet her perspective is not overwrought either. I say this because there's something compelling about the matter-of-fact sharing of all the Palestinian villages that simple have disappeared from the map. That Israeli maps and old maps of the area tell conflicting narratives.
I don't think you can read this erasure of lives, or villages, alongside the almost forgotten incident with the girl, without hearing the voices of so many Palestinians saying this -- that the goal now is to literally and metaphorically erase a people from not just maps but from history.
As she explores where the girl was assaulted and murdered, the past echoes in ways she can't know, but the reader does, as as the divide between then and now is thin. A dog shows up in both timeline, and it's left to the reader's imagination if it's somehow, mystically, the same dog connecting the two girls/women. If that dog is somehow a ghost demanding justice, or acknowledgement, for the thing he witnessed.
The ending feels inevitable and packs a punch.
The story is in 2 parts. The first part is from the POV of an Israeli soldier, I don't remember his exact rank, except that he had authority, as he discovers a Bedouin girl. It's based on a real case, and we see the tragic end of this child. I say child because the actual girl seems to have been under 15.
The tone of this first part is very matter of fact. This man is cold, emotionless, fastidious, and regimented, and so this is the way the story is expressed even as atrocities happen. As he allows and participates in atrocities.
The second portion is the story of a Palestinian woman who reads an account of the first part of the story, and realizes this happened on her birthday, albeit a different year. She feels compelled to find out more, even though this involves her going to places forbidden to her by the occupation.
She is not as detached as the man in the first portion, and yet her perspective is not overwrought either. I say this because there's something compelling about the matter-of-fact sharing of all the Palestinian villages that simple have disappeared from the map. That Israeli maps and old maps of the area tell conflicting narratives.
I don't think you can read this erasure of lives, or villages, alongside the almost forgotten incident with the girl, without hearing the voices of so many Palestinians saying this -- that the goal now is to literally and metaphorically erase a people from not just maps but from history.
As she explores where the girl was assaulted and murdered, the past echoes in ways she can't know, but the reader does, as as the divide between then and now is thin. A dog shows up in both timeline, and it's left to the reader's imagination if it's somehow, mystically, the same dog connecting the two girls/women. If that dog is somehow a ghost demanding justice, or acknowledgement, for the thing he witnessed.
The ending feels inevitable and packs a punch.
Patricia Wants to Cuddle by Samantha Allen
dark
funny
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.25
I liked this book just fine, but I should have loved it. I guess I didn't vibe with the writing. This is satirical, but I think I might have needed that amped up a notch.
I've read reviews that say there's only one (intentionally) likeable character, but I suppose I didn't feel that way. These characters are flawed and disingenuous, but I didn't really dislike them, other than Jeremy, AKA The Catch. I think these are women we're supposed to write off as vapid, but they're also all women with plans and agency.
The contestants seem pretty "redeemable," if redemption is needed -- but without spoiling, we all know there's no time for all that. Still, in a book where the tone and length prohibits too much depth and growth, there are moments that still hint at more nuance and complexity.
The flaws are very human flaws exacerbated by the reality show environment and reality show culture, and by a society that rewards certain behaviors.
There's a love story woven through out this that we know ends in loss, and that's extremely poignant. This operates on it's own level outside of the satire. Whatever other antics, the author takes seriously the concept of sapphic women having place to belong.
I watch reality shows, but more Housewives than dating competitions, but I'm still familiar with the culture, and the way shows are discussed. It's shocking how well Samantha Allen channels those discussions, the usual suspects, the low-key combativeness and air of superiority. Unnerving.
Our story becomes very gory toward the end, but due to the tone it's more of a detached grossness. Viscera without being visceral. The tone kept the scary at a distance, too, but that's okay. I don't presume to know what scares other people, but I think I can confidently say not too many people will be checking the locks and trembling under their covers/.
I think "Patricia" might grow on me more over time, since I dreamed about it, and that usually denotes staying power.
I've read reviews that say there's only one (intentionally) likeable character, but I suppose I didn't feel that way. These characters are flawed and disingenuous, but I didn't really dislike them, other than Jeremy, AKA The Catch. I think these are women we're supposed to write off as vapid, but they're also all women with plans and agency.
The contestants seem pretty "redeemable," if redemption is needed -- but without spoiling, we all know there's no time for all that. Still, in a book where the tone and length prohibits too much depth and growth, there are moments that still hint at more nuance and complexity.
The flaws are very human flaws exacerbated by the reality show environment and reality show culture, and by a society that rewards certain behaviors.
There's a love story woven through out this that we know ends in loss, and that's extremely poignant. This operates on it's own level outside of the satire. Whatever other antics, the author takes seriously the concept of sapphic women having place to belong.
I watch reality shows, but more Housewives than dating competitions, but I'm still familiar with the culture, and the way shows are discussed. It's shocking how well Samantha Allen channels those discussions, the usual suspects, the low-key combativeness and air of superiority. Unnerving.
Our story becomes very gory toward the end, but due to the tone it's more of a detached grossness. Viscera without being visceral. The tone kept the scary at a distance, too, but that's okay. I don't presume to know what scares other people, but I think I can confidently say not too many people will be checking the locks and trembling under their covers/.
I think "Patricia" might grow on me more over time, since I dreamed about it, and that usually denotes staying power.
Sing Anyway by Anita Kelly
funny
hopeful
inspiring
lighthearted
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.75
This was light and inclusive when I needed that. I'm an introvert who loves karaoke and so I enjoyed the introverted Sam who still liked to sing with their friend group. Sam has a crush on Lily, a plus-sized goddess who when she sings commands the room as she serves fashion and confidence. The confidence doesn't translate to the real world, but Sam doesn't know this. When Sam's group bails, Lily invites then to her table and her group.
I really enjoyed this group of people and the concept for this series -- Moonies, the karaoke bar. I plan to continue with this series.
I really enjoyed this group of people and the concept for this series -- Moonies, the karaoke bar. I plan to continue with this series.
The Trees Grew Because I Bled There: Collected Stories by Eric LaRocca
challenging
dark
tense
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.5
Eric LaRocca is a talented author who writes (often gross) little stories that stay with you. This short-story collection is no exception. Writing this review a few weeks after reading/listening really cements my favorite stories, the ones I remember best.
Bodies are for Burning hit hard. The main character has an obsession with setting things, people, on fire. Intrusive thoughts. Lots of intrusive thoughts. And now she's watching her flammable niece. I don't advise asking anyone to babysit who tells you they're not cut out for babysitting. Anyhow, I get not wanting to babysit, and I have my own intrusive thoughts -- mine are just hating on myself and tossing out the worst-case scenarios or demanding to know the worst thought I could have in the moment, and giving it to me. I thought the message that this woman isn't monstrous, just really sick and fighting the sickness was poignant.
The Strange Things We Become hit hard. It's a story of impending loss and the mix of grief and resentment that comes along for the ride.
You're Not Supposed to Be Here is THAT story -- the one you expect to see in the latest horror anthology show where a seemingly idyllic day turns into a nightmare and the only way out, to save what matters, is to strip yourself bare, flaws and sins and warts on display. And then the question becomes, how do you live with yourself, and how can you live with what you now know? Can this marriage survive? Um, probably not.
Where Flames Burned Emerald as Glass was very pleasing in how the puzzle pieces fit together. Another story that asks its lead character -- and possibly the reader -- to get real with hard choices, and can you live with them. The decisions that are both noble and that just doesn't look good from the outside looking in. And who doesn't love the inevitability of a prophesy falling into place?
I'll Be Gone Again is honestly a really well-done story that for my own reasons, my own regrets, I don't want to think about too hard. A gut punch. And NOW I'm thinking about it. Ugh.
Please Leave or I'm Going to Hurt You hits on one of the top taboos and so it's deeply uncomfortable. But poignant. But uncomfortable. But saaaad.
The author is great, but I need to be in the right place for his stories to not take me down too dark of a path. And my friend never gave me back my copy of Things Have Gotten Worse Since We Last Spoke.
Bodies are for Burning hit hard. The main character has an obsession with setting things, people, on fire. Intrusive thoughts. Lots of intrusive thoughts. And now she's watching her flammable niece. I don't advise asking anyone to babysit who tells you they're not cut out for babysitting. Anyhow, I get not wanting to babysit, and I have my own intrusive thoughts -- mine are just hating on myself and tossing out the worst-case scenarios or demanding to know the worst thought I could have in the moment, and giving it to me. I thought the message that this woman isn't monstrous, just really sick and fighting the sickness was poignant.
The Strange Things We Become hit hard. It's a story of impending loss and the mix of grief and resentment that comes along for the ride.
You're Not Supposed to Be Here is THAT story -- the one you expect to see in the latest horror anthology show where a seemingly idyllic day turns into a nightmare and the only way out, to save what matters, is to strip yourself bare, flaws and sins and warts on display. And then the question becomes, how do you live with yourself, and how can you live with what you now know? Can this marriage survive? Um, probably not.
Where Flames Burned Emerald as Glass was very pleasing in how the puzzle pieces fit together. Another story that asks its lead character -- and possibly the reader -- to get real with hard choices, and can you live with them. The decisions that are both noble and that just doesn't look good from the outside looking in. And who doesn't love the inevitability of a prophesy falling into place?
I'll Be Gone Again is honestly a really well-done story that for my own reasons, my own regrets, I don't want to think about too hard. A gut punch. And NOW I'm thinking about it. Ugh.
Please Leave or I'm Going to Hurt You hits on one of the top taboos and so it's deeply uncomfortable. But poignant. But uncomfortable. But saaaad.
The author is great, but I need to be in the right place for his stories to not take me down too dark of a path. And my friend never gave me back my copy of Things Have Gotten Worse Since We Last Spoke.