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patchworkbunny's Reviews (2.12k)
It’s the winter of 1916 and the small French town of St Péronne is occupied by the Germans. With their husbands away at war, sisters Sophie and Hélène are running the family hotel, Le Coq Rouge, the best they can, considering they have no guests, barely any furniture and meagre rations of food and drink. So when the new Kommandant requests that she prepares the evening meals for his men, Sophie has little choice but to say yes. She must be careful, for he seems much more intelligent than his predecessor yet she is bold enough not to hide her prized possession; a painting by her husband, Édouard. It’s a portrait of Sophie from when she was at her happiest and the Kommandant is rather taken with it…if not maybe her as well.
In the present day, the portrait hangs in The Glass House, a modern architectural marvel built by Liv’s late husband. She lives there alone, treasuring the building as a memorial of him and the painting as a memory of their time together. He had always thought the woman in the portrait reminded him of her. But when the painting becomes the subject of a restitution case, Liv is forced to reconsider its heritage. It is rightfully hers, so what if it was stolen nearly 100 years ago? She must make the choice to give the painting up or risk losing everything in a legal fight that she just can’t afford.
From the very first page, I was pulled into Sophie’s world. She is dreaming about food, rich and delicious, yet when she wakes up, it is obvious her situation is quite the opposite. Whilst the story of occupied France is a struggle, there are some humorous and touching moments, such as the buried clock that starts to chime and the pantomime that ensues to try to keep it hidden from the Germans. Sophie’s an incredibly strong character in a hopeless position and she does so much for her family and the people of the town who might not even appreciate it. When she must feed the Germans, she becomes the victim of gossip and shunned by the people she thought were her friends.
Herr Kommandant is a wonderfully written character and illustrates that people were just people on both sides of the war, especially World War I which is looked back on as such a pointless loss of life. He ebbs back and forth from good to bad and back again, I was willing him not to be a villain throughout. He does bad things but also shows kindness and just as much as I wanted to know Sophie’s fate, I wanted to know that deep down there was good in him.
I guess the success of Sophie’s story makes it hard to be wrenched away from her and into the present day. I found the topic of restitution interesting and thought-provoking. Whilst there is the possibility that the painting, known as The Girl You Left Behind, was stolen during the war, it has such sentimental value for Liv whilst Édouard’s descendants merely see it a material object that they feel they have the right to claim. The narrative doesn’t flit about between timelines; there is a good solid chunk at the start to get acquainted with Sophie and her life and her story slowly becomes more and more involved in the present day as Liv uncovers the history of her painting.
The modern day romance seemed to pale in comparison to that of the past, relying an awful lot on coincidence. Enjoyable enough in itself, it’s a little predictable and there’s a chance those picking it up for the more serious elements may find it a little contrived. Initially, Liv’s old college friend, Mo, is the catalyst for her to realise she’s lonely and to go out and eventually meet Paul but after that she was a bit of a spare part who was never really developed. Yet despite this, it’s such an absorbing story, I just flew through the pages and didn’t care.
Of course, readers will want to compare it with the hugely successful Me Before You. Sophie’s story is incredibly moving but you’re much less likely to be reduced to a snotty, sobbing mess by the end. Maybe Moyes decided we needed time to recover from the heartbreak.
In the present day, the portrait hangs in The Glass House, a modern architectural marvel built by Liv’s late husband. She lives there alone, treasuring the building as a memorial of him and the painting as a memory of their time together. He had always thought the woman in the portrait reminded him of her. But when the painting becomes the subject of a restitution case, Liv is forced to reconsider its heritage. It is rightfully hers, so what if it was stolen nearly 100 years ago? She must make the choice to give the painting up or risk losing everything in a legal fight that she just can’t afford.
From the very first page, I was pulled into Sophie’s world. She is dreaming about food, rich and delicious, yet when she wakes up, it is obvious her situation is quite the opposite. Whilst the story of occupied France is a struggle, there are some humorous and touching moments, such as the buried clock that starts to chime and the pantomime that ensues to try to keep it hidden from the Germans. Sophie’s an incredibly strong character in a hopeless position and she does so much for her family and the people of the town who might not even appreciate it. When she must feed the Germans, she becomes the victim of gossip and shunned by the people she thought were her friends.
Herr Kommandant is a wonderfully written character and illustrates that people were just people on both sides of the war, especially World War I which is looked back on as such a pointless loss of life. He ebbs back and forth from good to bad and back again, I was willing him not to be a villain throughout. He does bad things but also shows kindness and just as much as I wanted to know Sophie’s fate, I wanted to know that deep down there was good in him.
I guess the success of Sophie’s story makes it hard to be wrenched away from her and into the present day. I found the topic of restitution interesting and thought-provoking. Whilst there is the possibility that the painting, known as The Girl You Left Behind, was stolen during the war, it has such sentimental value for Liv whilst Édouard’s descendants merely see it a material object that they feel they have the right to claim. The narrative doesn’t flit about between timelines; there is a good solid chunk at the start to get acquainted with Sophie and her life and her story slowly becomes more and more involved in the present day as Liv uncovers the history of her painting.
The modern day romance seemed to pale in comparison to that of the past, relying an awful lot on coincidence. Enjoyable enough in itself, it’s a little predictable and there’s a chance those picking it up for the more serious elements may find it a little contrived. Initially, Liv’s old college friend, Mo, is the catalyst for her to realise she’s lonely and to go out and eventually meet Paul but after that she was a bit of a spare part who was never really developed. Yet despite this, it’s such an absorbing story, I just flew through the pages and didn’t care.
Of course, readers will want to compare it with the hugely successful Me Before You. Sophie’s story is incredibly moving but you’re much less likely to be reduced to a snotty, sobbing mess by the end. Maybe Moyes decided we needed time to recover from the heartbreak.
Mara wakes up in hospital with no memories of the night her friends and boyfriend died. All she knows is that she can’t stay in the place filled with memories of her best friend and she begs her parents to move away. She thinks she’s doing great until she starts seeing them; her dead friends, in mirrors or standing on the other side of the room. She must be going crazy. Why can’t she remember?
The Unbecoming of Mara Dyer is essentially an attempt at young adult psychological horror that somehow just doesn’t quite make it. The sense that Mara is convinced that she must be psychotic, that the things she sees aren’t real, should create a tense and creepy story but the atmosphere just isn’t there for most of it. Mara is almost blasé about her condition; wouldn’t you be more scared if you thought you were losing your mind? The glimpses in mirrors and her resulting fear of looking into them is probably the strongest part of this. The writing is a little inconsistent and the starting chapters were so bland that I nearly put the book down before it even got going. Yet there was something that drew me on and I enjoyed it at some level.
Mara, being a typical American teenager, uses the term “British accent” a few times which of course irritated me…only for her to be corrected by English Noah later in the book. I wanted to cheer him! I actually really liked his character, not really the bad boy in school though obviously there were plenty of rumours, he seems altogether real and swears and says stuff I expect a young man would. Mara turns out to be a quite interesting character, not a typical person you can point out and go yes she’s doing the right thing and I believe in her. The realisation at the end, whilst something I saw coming, makes you wonder how she’s going to deal with it in the future.
The school they attended was a little unreal. That they expel a pupil on the say so of one student who is backed up by their best friend? That on an oral exam that will affect college applications, a teacher can fail a student with no proof of anything? It’s hard to bristle with indignation when the unfairness isn’t believable. I can see what she was trying to do but surely there were better ways of doing it? It’s not even like a big conspiracy was revealed at the end to explain it away, it’s meant to be normal behaviour!
I do wonder if in the rush to feed the hungry young adult market, publishers are cutting corners. My unprofessional view is that it hasn’t gone through a thorough editing process. There’s promise in the writing and good character development so I wouldn’t avoid the sequel but I was rather disappointed in the package that was The Unbecoming of Mara Dyer.
The Unbecoming of Mara Dyer is essentially an attempt at young adult psychological horror that somehow just doesn’t quite make it. The sense that Mara is convinced that she must be psychotic, that the things she sees aren’t real, should create a tense and creepy story but the atmosphere just isn’t there for most of it. Mara is almost blasé about her condition; wouldn’t you be more scared if you thought you were losing your mind? The glimpses in mirrors and her resulting fear of looking into them is probably the strongest part of this. The writing is a little inconsistent and the starting chapters were so bland that I nearly put the book down before it even got going. Yet there was something that drew me on and I enjoyed it at some level.
Mara, being a typical American teenager, uses the term “British accent” a few times which of course irritated me…only for her to be corrected by English Noah later in the book. I wanted to cheer him! I actually really liked his character, not really the bad boy in school though obviously there were plenty of rumours, he seems altogether real and swears and says stuff I expect a young man would. Mara turns out to be a quite interesting character, not a typical person you can point out and go yes she’s doing the right thing and I believe in her. The realisation at the end, whilst something I saw coming, makes you wonder how she’s going to deal with it in the future.
The school they attended was a little unreal. That they expel a pupil on the say so of one student who is backed up by their best friend? That on an oral exam that will affect college applications, a teacher can fail a student with no proof of anything? It’s hard to bristle with indignation when the unfairness isn’t believable. I can see what she was trying to do but surely there were better ways of doing it? It’s not even like a big conspiracy was revealed at the end to explain it away, it’s meant to be normal behaviour!
I do wonder if in the rush to feed the hungry young adult market, publishers are cutting corners. My unprofessional view is that it hasn’t gone through a thorough editing process. There’s promise in the writing and good character development so I wouldn’t avoid the sequel but I was rather disappointed in the package that was The Unbecoming of Mara Dyer.
In the spring of 1994, a body was found on the island of Inchmahome in the middle of the Lake of Menteith, following one of the coldest winters in living memory. The case was never solved yet nearly 20 years later DS Rachel Narey is determined to close this one cold case. It was her father’s; the one he never forgot and now he is losing his memory. Diagnosed with Alzheimer’s he has moved himself into a care home and she feels the one thing she can do for him now is solve his case. He won’t let it be the thing that lingers in his memory. Keeping the investigation off the books, she ropes in photographer Tony Winter and his uncle to work back through the evidence.
The wintery setting of Scotland in the grip of snow is something quite different to all the Scandinavian fiction you may be used to. Whilst snow is not uncommon it’s still a thing to be celebrated whilst being an annoyance. Something that no one is ever quite prepared for so I really enjoyed the setting which also moves away from urban Glasgow to the more rural area around Callander and Stirling. It’s a little bit odd having a place associated with my childhood memories as a setting in a crime novel and I do wonder if it’s described enough for those not familiar (I imagine that’s most the people reading this).
It’s a much slower paced novel than its predecessor, Snapshot. There are some touching moments where Narey deals with her father’s illness and struggles with her reasons for digging around in the case. However I didn’t really care for any of the victims enough for it to be gripping. The main characters’ motives are pretty selfish and there isn’t really much time given to develop those that aren’t going to live beyond the pages of this instalment. I felt a little sorry for the girl from the lake, no one really wanted to know what her story was. It was a little too fact based for my liking and not enough emotion. I didn’t mind so much that Winter takes a backseat to Narey in the investigation, it’s probably a bit more realistic anyway. He does get a few chances to indulge in his morbid fascination with death photography but it doesn’t take over.
What Robertson excels at is his wonderfully descriptive portrayal of crime scenes. Seen through Winter’s photographer’s eye, both the details and the aesthetic qualities can be captured. This might make for some gory reading at times but it paints a vivid picture in your mind.
The wintery setting of Scotland in the grip of snow is something quite different to all the Scandinavian fiction you may be used to. Whilst snow is not uncommon it’s still a thing to be celebrated whilst being an annoyance. Something that no one is ever quite prepared for so I really enjoyed the setting which also moves away from urban Glasgow to the more rural area around Callander and Stirling. It’s a little bit odd having a place associated with my childhood memories as a setting in a crime novel and I do wonder if it’s described enough for those not familiar (I imagine that’s most the people reading this).
It’s a much slower paced novel than its predecessor, Snapshot. There are some touching moments where Narey deals with her father’s illness and struggles with her reasons for digging around in the case. However I didn’t really care for any of the victims enough for it to be gripping. The main characters’ motives are pretty selfish and there isn’t really much time given to develop those that aren’t going to live beyond the pages of this instalment. I felt a little sorry for the girl from the lake, no one really wanted to know what her story was. It was a little too fact based for my liking and not enough emotion. I didn’t mind so much that Winter takes a backseat to Narey in the investigation, it’s probably a bit more realistic anyway. He does get a few chances to indulge in his morbid fascination with death photography but it doesn’t take over.
What Robertson excels at is his wonderfully descriptive portrayal of crime scenes. Seen through Winter’s photographer’s eye, both the details and the aesthetic qualities can be captured. This might make for some gory reading at times but it paints a vivid picture in your mind.
The instructions appeared online in 2015; anonymously posted but guaranteed to be followed by thousands of inquisitive children. That day is now known as Step Day. One by one, children disappeared, stepping into the next world. The children were scared and helpless except for orphaned Joshua. For once, her felt strangely at peace and he led the lost back to their earth. From that day onwards, it was known that there were other earths, with different evolutionary paths. Pioneers set out to colonise these new worlds leaving behind the rich and the poor and those who can’t step.
Joshua is happy by himself but when he is approached by the Black Corporation and introduced to Lobsang, the first computer to prove its humanity, he embarks on a mission to step to the ends of the Long Earth.
Terry Pratchett and Stephen Baxter need little introduction and their first collaboration has been eagerly awaited by fans. I haven’t read any Baxter but it’s easy to identify the humour and observations we have grown to know and love from Pratchett. However it’s very different in style to Discworld which I can only assume is Baxter’s influence.
It’s a little slow to get going with so many characters seemingly on different versions of earth. The chapters concerning the modern day pioneers felt a little disjointed and didn’t contribute much to the plot. I can understand their relevance as back story but the characters weren’t really engaging enough and they got in the way of the real story. However I did really enjoy the bits about Private Percy in 1916 when he first encountered what he thought were the French or possibly Russians but were actually steppers from another earth. They added to the whole story of the primates, our possible evolutionary cousins from other dimensions (or legs of the trousers of time).
Lobsang is an excellent character, a computer that has managed to prove in a court of law that he is human. His story is that he’s a reincarnated Tibetan monk and when Joshua first meets him, he’s encased in a vending machine. He is the ultimate super computer yet becomes a character you come to feel for. He enforces a daily film, of which it is always relevant to an event or comment. He might infuriate Joshua but I think they might even manage to become friends along the way.
Whilst we don’t get to spend much time in each version of earth I loved the passing worlds and their strange but oddly familiar creatures. It’s an exploration of what the earth could be like if Homo sapiens hadn’t taken over the place. Yet what is the future of the Long Earth is humans start all over again and what will happen to those left behind? All this sort of makes up for the lack of flowing plot in the first half of the book and I look forward to seeing what happens next.
Joshua is happy by himself but when he is approached by the Black Corporation and introduced to Lobsang, the first computer to prove its humanity, he embarks on a mission to step to the ends of the Long Earth.
Terry Pratchett and Stephen Baxter need little introduction and their first collaboration has been eagerly awaited by fans. I haven’t read any Baxter but it’s easy to identify the humour and observations we have grown to know and love from Pratchett. However it’s very different in style to Discworld which I can only assume is Baxter’s influence.
It’s a little slow to get going with so many characters seemingly on different versions of earth. The chapters concerning the modern day pioneers felt a little disjointed and didn’t contribute much to the plot. I can understand their relevance as back story but the characters weren’t really engaging enough and they got in the way of the real story. However I did really enjoy the bits about Private Percy in 1916 when he first encountered what he thought were the French or possibly Russians but were actually steppers from another earth. They added to the whole story of the primates, our possible evolutionary cousins from other dimensions (or legs of the trousers of time).
Lobsang is an excellent character, a computer that has managed to prove in a court of law that he is human. His story is that he’s a reincarnated Tibetan monk and when Joshua first meets him, he’s encased in a vending machine. He is the ultimate super computer yet becomes a character you come to feel for. He enforces a daily film, of which it is always relevant to an event or comment. He might infuriate Joshua but I think they might even manage to become friends along the way.
Whilst we don’t get to spend much time in each version of earth I loved the passing worlds and their strange but oddly familiar creatures. It’s an exploration of what the earth could be like if Homo sapiens hadn’t taken over the place. Yet what is the future of the Long Earth is humans start all over again and what will happen to those left behind? All this sort of makes up for the lack of flowing plot in the first half of the book and I look forward to seeing what happens next.
The Goddess Legacy is a series of stories which form a prequel of sorts to The Goddess Test. They go right back to the beginning, when the Olympians defeated the Titans and run through the gods’ tales in chronological order, from Hera to Aphrodite, Persephone to Hermes and ending up at Hades. The finish squarely where The Goddess Test picks up but is designed to be read after (and therefore this review may contain spoilers for the first book in the series). It does not follow on from Goddess Interrupted and could be missed out but adds a lot of wonderful back story for dedicated fans.
The Goddess Queen deals with Hera’s unhappy marriage to Zeus and shows her slow spiral into depression. The thread of Hera’s woe, which contributes to her actions in The Goddess Test, runs throughout all five stories but the first really gets to the source of her bitterness. The second story, The Lovestruck Goddess is devoted to Aphrodite and her two defining relationships with her lover Ares and her husband Hephaestus. I always feel poor Hephaestus gets left of out retellings of myths so it was lovely to see him included here.
Persephone’s side of the story gets told in Goddess of the Underworld from her arranged marriage with Hades, her unhappiness at living in the Underworld and the events that lead up to her deal to live elsewhere for spring and summer. It also goes into the reasons behind her thorny relationship with Aphrodite and why she left Hades.
God of Thieves feels a little out of place but does include some important information on the transition from ancient Greek gods to the characters we came to know in The Goddess Test. Hermes is in Zeus’ bad books yet again but when Helios and Selene go missing, he knows he can use his superior tracking skills to find out what happened. This takes him to medieval England where he meets a young girl and her band of merry thieves.
This all leads up to God of Darkness in which Hades makes his deal with the council, 100 years to find a queen or they will let him fade. It’s quite a short story but does give a little insight into the girls that came before Kate. I liked the fact that Ingrid informed him of the myth of Persephone that is now well known and it highlights the fact that myths evolve over time and gives credence to Aimee’s versions as told here. As someone who loves Greek mythology I was interested to see the changes she made to the myths that helped them become her modern day tale.
So read it if you’re interested in back story goodness but if you’re after more of Kate and Henry you might find yourself disappointed. I personally loved it (maybe even a little more than the novels). This has become my favourite young adult series by far, keep them coming!
The Goddess Queen deals with Hera’s unhappy marriage to Zeus and shows her slow spiral into depression. The thread of Hera’s woe, which contributes to her actions in The Goddess Test, runs throughout all five stories but the first really gets to the source of her bitterness. The second story, The Lovestruck Goddess is devoted to Aphrodite and her two defining relationships with her lover Ares and her husband Hephaestus. I always feel poor Hephaestus gets left of out retellings of myths so it was lovely to see him included here.
Persephone’s side of the story gets told in Goddess of the Underworld from her arranged marriage with Hades, her unhappiness at living in the Underworld and the events that lead up to her deal to live elsewhere for spring and summer. It also goes into the reasons behind her thorny relationship with Aphrodite and why she left Hades.
God of Thieves feels a little out of place but does include some important information on the transition from ancient Greek gods to the characters we came to know in The Goddess Test. Hermes is in Zeus’ bad books yet again but when Helios and Selene go missing, he knows he can use his superior tracking skills to find out what happened. This takes him to medieval England where he meets a young girl and her band of merry thieves.
This all leads up to God of Darkness in which Hades makes his deal with the council, 100 years to find a queen or they will let him fade. It’s quite a short story but does give a little insight into the girls that came before Kate. I liked the fact that Ingrid informed him of the myth of Persephone that is now well known and it highlights the fact that myths evolve over time and gives credence to Aimee’s versions as told here. As someone who loves Greek mythology I was interested to see the changes she made to the myths that helped them become her modern day tale.
So read it if you’re interested in back story goodness but if you’re after more of Kate and Henry you might find yourself disappointed. I personally loved it (maybe even a little more than the novels). This has become my favourite young adult series by far, keep them coming!
Luke Murray is minding his own business on a Manchester bus when three chavs start calling him racist names, threatening and hitting him. For fellow passenger, Emma, the situation is paralysing, naturally shy, she is scared to intervene but also knows what’s happening is wrong. She wills someone else on the bus to do something. When Jason Barnes comes down the stairs to get off the bus, he sees what’s going on and tries to put a stop. When the doors open Luke, and his tormenters, make a run for it with Jason in pursuit. The fight ends up on Jason’s doorstep, where his mother Val, stands aghast as Luke is beaten into a coma and her bright, brave son is stabbed.
Split Second follows the aftermath of a senseless, fatal stabbing and a fight which leaves Luke in a coma. Where most crime novels focus on the investigation, Staincliffe takes a close look at the lives that are ruined by violent crime, not just the parents but the witnesses, the ones who feel guilt for not doing anything more.
Louise Murray, is a single parent, with mixed race kids who she is incredibly proud of but cause others to make rash judgements about her. Luke is painted as a trouble maker by the press but in reality was like so many other teenage boys, just struggling to get by at school and in a world that isn’t always fair. His sister, Ruby, is a wonderfully talented girl who adds some hope to a story which would otherwise be incredibly depressing.
Emma’s story is one that must be so, so common yet never told. How many times have you sat on public transport and tried to avoid the trouble breaking out, the groups of teens that can go from having a laugh to threatening in seconds. For most of us nothing awful happens but what if it did? What if you never stepped in because you were scared and someone dies because of your cowardice? Emma isn’t painted as a coward even though she feels like it. She is an outcast, painfully shy at times and has battled with poor self-image. Her father is verbally cruel, forever putting her down but he’s her dad, she’s meant to love him, and vice versa. Emma perhaps is the character that can make the most of the awful events.
Andrew and Val Barnes tell a story not unfamiliar to couples who have lost a child. How can they carry on being normal when their son is dead? Can their marriage hold out? Andrew is at times consumed with anger, aimed at no one and everything.
As with The Kindest Thing, Staincliffe tackles a difficult subject with both emotion and rational thought. It might be lacking in action or complicated investigations but it is real and raw. Needing to know that the characters will be OK mentally is gripping enough without needless events. Heartbreaking yet tinged with hope, the best crime I’ve read this year.
Split Second follows the aftermath of a senseless, fatal stabbing and a fight which leaves Luke in a coma. Where most crime novels focus on the investigation, Staincliffe takes a close look at the lives that are ruined by violent crime, not just the parents but the witnesses, the ones who feel guilt for not doing anything more.
Louise Murray, is a single parent, with mixed race kids who she is incredibly proud of but cause others to make rash judgements about her. Luke is painted as a trouble maker by the press but in reality was like so many other teenage boys, just struggling to get by at school and in a world that isn’t always fair. His sister, Ruby, is a wonderfully talented girl who adds some hope to a story which would otherwise be incredibly depressing.
Emma’s story is one that must be so, so common yet never told. How many times have you sat on public transport and tried to avoid the trouble breaking out, the groups of teens that can go from having a laugh to threatening in seconds. For most of us nothing awful happens but what if it did? What if you never stepped in because you were scared and someone dies because of your cowardice? Emma isn’t painted as a coward even though she feels like it. She is an outcast, painfully shy at times and has battled with poor self-image. Her father is verbally cruel, forever putting her down but he’s her dad, she’s meant to love him, and vice versa. Emma perhaps is the character that can make the most of the awful events.
Andrew and Val Barnes tell a story not unfamiliar to couples who have lost a child. How can they carry on being normal when their son is dead? Can their marriage hold out? Andrew is at times consumed with anger, aimed at no one and everything.
As with The Kindest Thing, Staincliffe tackles a difficult subject with both emotion and rational thought. It might be lacking in action or complicated investigations but it is real and raw. Needing to know that the characters will be OK mentally is gripping enough without needless events. Heartbreaking yet tinged with hope, the best crime I’ve read this year.
Billy Lynn is a hero, part of the Bravo squad who bravely fought off insurgents in Iraq, to help keep America safe. That’s what the Bush administration want the world to think and they seize their opportunity for a Victory Tour, ending at the Dallas Cowboys Thanksgiving game. In reality, Bravo are a bunch of kids that didn’t have many options in life and are being sent round the country as a PR exercise.
I generally shy away from books about war told from an American perspective but Billy Lynn’s Long Halftime Walk actually addresses some of the very things that put me off. Billy didn’t want to join the army, seeking revenge on his sister’s ex, he trashed his car and faced either jail time or a stint in the army. He’s never had sex and wants nothing more than to find a girl in his short time at home. I did feel that things moved pretty quickly as most of the story is set over one day, but that must be how soldiers have to cope, making the most of their freedom whilst they can.
Poor Bravo are pretty much being used for propaganda, the “heroes” are passed around from rich to influential and held up as an example of how well the war effort is going. There are comparisons made between the football and war that essentially it is brutal and real yet the nation makes it into a spectacle. The whole idea of young, damaged men being paraded as celebrities just for surviving a horrible experience is one that is probably unique to America. It seems to be lacking somewhat in dignity. I’m not sure that the characters are immediately likable; they are the kind of young men I would move away from in a bar! But by the end, you see that their bravado and bluster is mostly a façade to avoid dealing with reality. I liked the quietly commanding sergeant, Dime, who keeps his boys in check and the idea that they were a family. One of the most endearing characters isn’t even present, Shroom, Billy’s friend who was killed yet shaped his young life so much in the short time they were together.
The plot mostly revolves around Bravo’s efforts (or their agent’s) to sell film rights for their experiences but it is Ben Fountain’s writing style that carries you through the pages. It holds a lot of truth yet contains humour and compassion. Whilst the subject matter might not have been my first choice, I thoroughly enjoyed the writing itself. I will say I struggled with some of the Texan speech, especially wondering who Nina Leven was (it’s actually 9/11). Fountain also cleverly spaces out words to show when Billy is overwhelmed and only hearing certain things.
Don't expect an compassion for the other side, this is all about American views and the ability to ignore the horrors of war.
I generally shy away from books about war told from an American perspective but Billy Lynn’s Long Halftime Walk actually addresses some of the very things that put me off. Billy didn’t want to join the army, seeking revenge on his sister’s ex, he trashed his car and faced either jail time or a stint in the army. He’s never had sex and wants nothing more than to find a girl in his short time at home. I did feel that things moved pretty quickly as most of the story is set over one day, but that must be how soldiers have to cope, making the most of their freedom whilst they can.
Poor Bravo are pretty much being used for propaganda, the “heroes” are passed around from rich to influential and held up as an example of how well the war effort is going. There are comparisons made between the football and war that essentially it is brutal and real yet the nation makes it into a spectacle. The whole idea of young, damaged men being paraded as celebrities just for surviving a horrible experience is one that is probably unique to America. It seems to be lacking somewhat in dignity. I’m not sure that the characters are immediately likable; they are the kind of young men I would move away from in a bar! But by the end, you see that their bravado and bluster is mostly a façade to avoid dealing with reality. I liked the quietly commanding sergeant, Dime, who keeps his boys in check and the idea that they were a family. One of the most endearing characters isn’t even present, Shroom, Billy’s friend who was killed yet shaped his young life so much in the short time they were together.
The plot mostly revolves around Bravo’s efforts (or their agent’s) to sell film rights for their experiences but it is Ben Fountain’s writing style that carries you through the pages. It holds a lot of truth yet contains humour and compassion. Whilst the subject matter might not have been my first choice, I thoroughly enjoyed the writing itself. I will say I struggled with some of the Texan speech, especially wondering who Nina Leven was (it’s actually 9/11). Fountain also cleverly spaces out words to show when Billy is overwhelmed and only hearing certain things.
Don't expect an compassion for the other side, this is all about American views and the ability to ignore the horrors of war.
London City is alive. When Beth and her best friend Pen are caught spraying graffiti at their school, Pen turns Beth in. Reeling from the betrayal, Beth stumbles into another London, one where railwraiths transport memories of passengers, where the lights are living glass people who dance at night, where the statues are imprisoned men, repaying their debts to their absent goddess, and where a danger threatens the very essence of the city that no one sees. And that city has a son.
Wow, I’m not sure how much I can express my love of Tom Pollock’s hidden London without spoiling the discovery for others. It reminds me of how children’s imaginations create worlds out of the incredibly mundane environment that surrounds them, street lights can be beautiful and exotic women that dance and flirt and real dangers such as trains and barbed wire can be turned into monsters.
After Beth’s ride on the railwraith she meets Filius, son of Mater Viae, the goddess who the creatures of London worship. At first, she takes him for a dirty street urchin but she saves his life and he hers and she finds herself following him further into his world, where Reach threatens the existence of those who have called the streets home for centuries. Reach is the god of cranes; they appear on the horizon wherever he is erecting his mirrored skyscrapers, something residents of London will know well. Reach represents progress destroying the character and essence of London.
Meanwhile, Pen has her reasons for her betrayal to Beth and her story is a sad one. She sees Beth’s paintings on the walls and follows her, with no inclination of the danger she could be in. Amongst the story of the city there are some very real themes threaded throughout and I think Pen’s parting words sums things up perfectly. Beth’s father is also suffering from deep depression after the loss of his wife and Beth’s mother and now he must face the idea that his daughter is lost too. There are some incredibly touching moments amongst the fantastical.
There is also a spattering of humour, mostly from the wonderful character of Victor, a homeless Russian who offers his translation services and whose friendly manner evolves into a sort of surrogate father figure for Beth. This lightens what is otherwise a dark, yet utterly brilliant tale.
There’s no denying that The City’s Son put’s the urban into urban fantasy, the setting being crucial. Scenes may be a little disturbing for younger readers although I’m not sure it’s being marketed towards young adults despite the teenage characters.
Wow, I’m not sure how much I can express my love of Tom Pollock’s hidden London without spoiling the discovery for others. It reminds me of how children’s imaginations create worlds out of the incredibly mundane environment that surrounds them, street lights can be beautiful and exotic women that dance and flirt and real dangers such as trains and barbed wire can be turned into monsters.
After Beth’s ride on the railwraith she meets Filius, son of Mater Viae, the goddess who the creatures of London worship. At first, she takes him for a dirty street urchin but she saves his life and he hers and she finds herself following him further into his world, where Reach threatens the existence of those who have called the streets home for centuries. Reach is the god of cranes; they appear on the horizon wherever he is erecting his mirrored skyscrapers, something residents of London will know well. Reach represents progress destroying the character and essence of London.
Meanwhile, Pen has her reasons for her betrayal to Beth and her story is a sad one. She sees Beth’s paintings on the walls and follows her, with no inclination of the danger she could be in. Amongst the story of the city there are some very real themes threaded throughout and I think Pen’s parting words sums things up perfectly. Beth’s father is also suffering from deep depression after the loss of his wife and Beth’s mother and now he must face the idea that his daughter is lost too. There are some incredibly touching moments amongst the fantastical.
There is also a spattering of humour, mostly from the wonderful character of Victor, a homeless Russian who offers his translation services and whose friendly manner evolves into a sort of surrogate father figure for Beth. This lightens what is otherwise a dark, yet utterly brilliant tale.
There’s no denying that The City’s Son put’s the urban into urban fantasy, the setting being crucial. Scenes may be a little disturbing for younger readers although I’m not sure it’s being marketed towards young adults despite the teenage characters.
Please note, Shadow of Night is the sequel to A Discovery of Witches and therefore this review will contain spoilers for the previous book.
Witch Diana and vampire Matthew are transported back in time to the 16th century where Queen Elizabeth I is on the throne and London is home to the group of intellectuals knows as the School of Night; Christopher Marlowe, George Chapman, Thomas Harriot, Henry Percy, Sir Walter Raleigh and Matthew himself. Diana must quickly adapt to the role as a woman in Elizabethan times whilst surrounded by people she has only ever been able to dream about meeting. But this is not a history lesson, she must find someone to teach her how to harness her powers and locate the manuscript that has caused so much trouble in the present day.
If you recognise all the characters based on history lessons, or a healthy interest in historical fiction/film, you’ll be delighted to find out their hidden identities and how they are connected with Matthew. Kit Marlowe has turned up in so many urban fantasy novels, I’m starting to think he might have had supernatural powers!
Maybe Deborah has been a bit self-indulgent, including all the Elizabethan figures she would love to meet if she were able to travel back in time. As a historian, that’s sort of understandable, but it doesn’t do much for the flow of the story, with so many characters jostling for attention and very little time, in relation to the length of the book, given to the development of Diana and Matthew. Just when you think there’s no room for anyone else, they change location and introduce yet more influential people that Matthew happens to know.
There’s enough material in Shadow of Night for at least three novels. Whilst enjoyable in its parts, I found the overall plot structure to be meandering and every time I got interested in one part, it seemed to drop the thread and move somewhere else. There is Matthew’s history and his relationship with his father, witch trials, Diana’s education, the hunt for Ashmole 782, a sinister vampire in charge of London, alchemy, escaping the unwanted attentions of the Emperor of the Roman Empire, royal spies and Diana and Matthew’s marital problems. I found myself more immersed in the sections away from London, which confirms in my mind, that the saturation of history got in the way a little bit.
Whilst Diana and Matthew are running round changing history (it’s best not to even think about time-travel paradoxes), things start appearing in the present day. I loved the short interludes where you are returned to now and they find little traces of the couple. It also brought home how much I wanted to continue the stories of the characters from A Discovery of Witches, especially when there was some shocking news that didn’t get expanded on at all. I am hoping it will be picked up on in the next book! I am also desperate to learn more about Ashmole 782 and its sinister secrets.
I’m not sure if it’s just Diana’s acclimatisation to the socially acceptable behaviour of the 16th century but for someone who was previously such an independent women, she seems a little cowed by Matthew, needy and under his thumb. And, boy is he possessive, to the point it becomes a little annoying.
If you weren’t enamoured with A Discovery of Witches I don’t think Shadow of Night is going to be an improvement for you but will satisfy the fans of Deborah’s historical insights woven into a rich world of the fantastical.
Witch Diana and vampire Matthew are transported back in time to the 16th century where Queen Elizabeth I is on the throne and London is home to the group of intellectuals knows as the School of Night; Christopher Marlowe, George Chapman, Thomas Harriot, Henry Percy, Sir Walter Raleigh and Matthew himself. Diana must quickly adapt to the role as a woman in Elizabethan times whilst surrounded by people she has only ever been able to dream about meeting. But this is not a history lesson, she must find someone to teach her how to harness her powers and locate the manuscript that has caused so much trouble in the present day.
If you recognise all the characters based on history lessons, or a healthy interest in historical fiction/film, you’ll be delighted to find out their hidden identities and how they are connected with Matthew. Kit Marlowe has turned up in so many urban fantasy novels, I’m starting to think he might have had supernatural powers!
Maybe Deborah has been a bit self-indulgent, including all the Elizabethan figures she would love to meet if she were able to travel back in time. As a historian, that’s sort of understandable, but it doesn’t do much for the flow of the story, with so many characters jostling for attention and very little time, in relation to the length of the book, given to the development of Diana and Matthew. Just when you think there’s no room for anyone else, they change location and introduce yet more influential people that Matthew happens to know.
There’s enough material in Shadow of Night for at least three novels. Whilst enjoyable in its parts, I found the overall plot structure to be meandering and every time I got interested in one part, it seemed to drop the thread and move somewhere else. There is Matthew’s history and his relationship with his father, witch trials, Diana’s education, the hunt for Ashmole 782, a sinister vampire in charge of London, alchemy, escaping the unwanted attentions of the Emperor of the Roman Empire, royal spies and Diana and Matthew’s marital problems. I found myself more immersed in the sections away from London, which confirms in my mind, that the saturation of history got in the way a little bit.
Whilst Diana and Matthew are running round changing history (it’s best not to even think about time-travel paradoxes), things start appearing in the present day. I loved the short interludes where you are returned to now and they find little traces of the couple. It also brought home how much I wanted to continue the stories of the characters from A Discovery of Witches, especially when there was some shocking news that didn’t get expanded on at all. I am hoping it will be picked up on in the next book! I am also desperate to learn more about Ashmole 782 and its sinister secrets.
I’m not sure if it’s just Diana’s acclimatisation to the socially acceptable behaviour of the 16th century but for someone who was previously such an independent women, she seems a little cowed by Matthew, needy and under his thumb. And, boy is he possessive, to the point it becomes a little annoying.
If you weren’t enamoured with A Discovery of Witches I don’t think Shadow of Night is going to be an improvement for you but will satisfy the fans of Deborah’s historical insights woven into a rich world of the fantastical.
When a seven year old kills her grandmother and blinds her father with a nail-gun, it is considered a tragic, yet isolated incident. Hesketh Lock works for a company that investigates corporate sabotage and is sent to Taiwan to unearth a whistle-blower at a timber plant. The man in question is a loyal employee and claims he was forced into it. His behaviour is bizarre and he speaks of the Hungry Ghosts and starving children. A few days later he commits suicide. But Sunny Chen is only the first, as Hesketh continues his work, a pattern starts to emerge, and if there’s one thing he’s good at, it’s finding patterns in human behaviour.
Hesketh has Asperger’s and it was refreshing to see this in an adult character. It has become a bit of a literary device to allow child narrators to be a bit cleverer and more interesting than the more average child. His lack of social skills are shown in his failed relationship with Kaitlin, his resulting one-night stands and even that his closest relationship is with his young stepson, Freddy. His logical manner of thinking and lack of deceit, make him the perfect candidate for his job and his tendency to go off on a tangent helps, rather than hinders, the narrative. One of his coping mechanisms is to fold origami, both focussing his mind but also in awkward situations, a small gift of origami seems to be the perfect gesture.
The concept of children turning again their parents may be a shocking one but it does raise a lot of questions. Children are never seen as a threat. What would you do in such circumstances, if you couldn’t sleep in your own home for fear of your child? Hesketh is desperate to be a father figure for Freddy even though they are not related and despite everything, he doesn’t want to give up on him. I began to find the children genuinely creepy.
The ending seems to tail off a bit but I loved the character of Hesketh, I could have kept on reading whatever else was going on. I’m not sure there will be enough of an explanation for some readers but I’m not going to give you any clues! As with The Rapture, Liz Jensen explores the factors that could lead to the end of our world as we know it.
Hesketh has Asperger’s and it was refreshing to see this in an adult character. It has become a bit of a literary device to allow child narrators to be a bit cleverer and more interesting than the more average child. His lack of social skills are shown in his failed relationship with Kaitlin, his resulting one-night stands and even that his closest relationship is with his young stepson, Freddy. His logical manner of thinking and lack of deceit, make him the perfect candidate for his job and his tendency to go off on a tangent helps, rather than hinders, the narrative. One of his coping mechanisms is to fold origami, both focussing his mind but also in awkward situations, a small gift of origami seems to be the perfect gesture.
The concept of children turning again their parents may be a shocking one but it does raise a lot of questions. Children are never seen as a threat. What would you do in such circumstances, if you couldn’t sleep in your own home for fear of your child? Hesketh is desperate to be a father figure for Freddy even though they are not related and despite everything, he doesn’t want to give up on him. I began to find the children genuinely creepy.
The ending seems to tail off a bit but I loved the character of Hesketh, I could have kept on reading whatever else was going on. I’m not sure there will be enough of an explanation for some readers but I’m not going to give you any clues! As with The Rapture, Liz Jensen explores the factors that could lead to the end of our world as we know it.