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patchworkbunny's Reviews (2.12k)
Somerset, 1868: Crippled by polio as a small child, Marnie lives with her ma and not her pa, Smoaker, in a seaside village famed for its sea cures. The sea is her life and she looks forward to being as well respected a dipper as her ma. However, shunned by the local children due to her limp, her life is a lonely one, until she meets Noah, who is staying at the mansion with his family. They are worlds apart but as he takes notice of her, Marnie starts to dream of a different life.
I live in a town whose existence owes thanks to Victorian bathers and I love the old photos they have on the pier of the ridiculous contraptions ladies used to get carried down to the water in. I absolutely loved this aspect of The Madness, with the bathing machines, dippers and livelihoods built up around the notion that the sea cures all ills.
It’s a suitably gothic tale of obsession. Noah’s diary entries make it clear he’s only interested in Marnie as a “distraction” and he has a love interest back in London. We can but hope, but his tone implies Marnie’s in for some trouble. She on the other hand is oblivious. She is reluctant at first, having been shunned by locals because of her disability, she distrusts this handsome, rich boy.
Her town and life is strangely claustrophobic, considering it is a beach-side town, with plenty of space. But she doesn’t have much choice in life; her class and disability means she is lucky to even have the life she does. She has a future, but she’s willing to risk all that for a boy she hardly knows. She is literally on the outside, looking in on his life, separated by more than she will ever know.
I liked the contrast between the propriety of the bathers and Marnie’s wild abandon. She is more worried about covering her disfigured leg than showing too much skin for decency’s sake. She seems wild and part of the environment. She sometimes dreams that she is a mermaid, and her father is a fisherman who will return to her and whisk her away from this life.
For the most part, the story is told in third person, with extracts from Noah’s diary. However towards the end, as tensions rise and Marnie’s obsession increases, it switches to first person narrative in Marnie’s voice. I’m so glad it wasn’t all told by her as she has this annoying trait of replacing my with me. I know this is to highlight her class and the period but I find it hard to read in large doses. Like I want to get my red pen out and correct it!
I live in a town whose existence owes thanks to Victorian bathers and I love the old photos they have on the pier of the ridiculous contraptions ladies used to get carried down to the water in. I absolutely loved this aspect of The Madness, with the bathing machines, dippers and livelihoods built up around the notion that the sea cures all ills.
It’s a suitably gothic tale of obsession. Noah’s diary entries make it clear he’s only interested in Marnie as a “distraction” and he has a love interest back in London. We can but hope, but his tone implies Marnie’s in for some trouble. She on the other hand is oblivious. She is reluctant at first, having been shunned by locals because of her disability, she distrusts this handsome, rich boy.
Her town and life is strangely claustrophobic, considering it is a beach-side town, with plenty of space. But she doesn’t have much choice in life; her class and disability means she is lucky to even have the life she does. She has a future, but she’s willing to risk all that for a boy she hardly knows. She is literally on the outside, looking in on his life, separated by more than she will ever know.
I liked the contrast between the propriety of the bathers and Marnie’s wild abandon. She is more worried about covering her disfigured leg than showing too much skin for decency’s sake. She seems wild and part of the environment. She sometimes dreams that she is a mermaid, and her father is a fisherman who will return to her and whisk her away from this life.
For the most part, the story is told in third person, with extracts from Noah’s diary. However towards the end, as tensions rise and Marnie’s obsession increases, it switches to first person narrative in Marnie’s voice. I’m so glad it wasn’t all told by her as she has this annoying trait of replacing my with me. I know this is to highlight her class and the period but I find it hard to read in large doses. Like I want to get my red pen out and correct it!
Horrorstör was much creepier than I was expecting! The first sentence introduces the zombies walking into the store…but this is not a zombie story. Those are just the staff. Don’t expect to jump straight into the action, there’s a long, tongue-in-cheek build up, describing the store, its products and the daily toil of its employees.
We are so used to horror stories taking place in old mansions, abandoned warehouses and other old and falling apart locations. It’s such a contrast to set it in a bright and spacious, modern setting. We all know what an Ikea looks like, and it doesn’t take much to make that familiar setting become eerie. Imagine it empty. Imagine it dark. Imagine the fake doorways aren’t really fake… And there’s something moving behind them.
I imagine Amy’s mentality is that of many retail workers. Yes, some like Ruth Anne, take pride in their jobs but for others it’s just a way to pay the rent and put dinner on the table. It pokes fun at consumerism but also looks at how people become trapped by their own minds. Yet it’s amusing and scary at the same time. It’s an awful lot to achieve in one book, especially such a short and snappy one.
For some crazy reason we visited Ikea the weekend after I finished this. In some ways it is so right, if you walk off the Bright and Shining Path, then you get turned around, go round in circles and end up walking twice as far as you would have done if you didn’t take the short-cut.
I’m always impressed with the production at Quirk Books. The paperback really does look like an Ikea catalogue. I was so tempted to go and leave it in amongst the catalogues in store! Each chapter has a product page, similar to those on the Ikea instructions, with an inspirational marketing blurb. But look closely as you read through the book as these items of furniture aren’t always what they seem.
We are so used to horror stories taking place in old mansions, abandoned warehouses and other old and falling apart locations. It’s such a contrast to set it in a bright and spacious, modern setting. We all know what an Ikea looks like, and it doesn’t take much to make that familiar setting become eerie. Imagine it empty. Imagine it dark. Imagine the fake doorways aren’t really fake… And there’s something moving behind them.
I imagine Amy’s mentality is that of many retail workers. Yes, some like Ruth Anne, take pride in their jobs but for others it’s just a way to pay the rent and put dinner on the table. It pokes fun at consumerism but also looks at how people become trapped by their own minds. Yet it’s amusing and scary at the same time. It’s an awful lot to achieve in one book, especially such a short and snappy one.
For some crazy reason we visited Ikea the weekend after I finished this. In some ways it is so right, if you walk off the Bright and Shining Path, then you get turned around, go round in circles and end up walking twice as far as you would have done if you didn’t take the short-cut.
I’m always impressed with the production at Quirk Books. The paperback really does look like an Ikea catalogue. I was so tempted to go and leave it in amongst the catalogues in store! Each chapter has a product page, similar to those on the Ikea instructions, with an inspirational marketing blurb. But look closely as you read through the book as these items of furniture aren’t always what they seem.
Plenty that made me chuckle but also some stuff that didn't seem all that weird to me. Nice, short read for bookish people though.
Marguerite’s parents are the physicists behind the Firebird; a device that makes travel between dimensions possible. When her father is murdered and the prime suspect disappears, Marguerite doesn’t hesitate to track him down. The only problem is, he’s no longer in their dimension.
I liked the concept of souls that span dimensions. We might be different people, but each version of us is has something that defies chance and chaos. Deep down, every version of ourselves is the same, no matter the circumstances. The prose often alludes to Marguerite's love of art and I felt there were some beautiful pieces of writing
The dimension jumping kept making me think of Quantum Leap. Although they only leap into themselves, but they have to learn quickly what kind of life they have landed in. We see a dimension that is ahead of us technologically and one that is behind, and another where sea levels have rose, making the scientific struggle focus on the oceans.
A large portion of the book is set in a Russia where the industrial revolution is in its early stages (they have trains but not much else). It’s not time travel, but it’s interesting to highlight how easy our world could be different. It’s probably too much to ask for more world-building for each dimension. I wanted more back story. What was the event that made that dimension different from ours? For the idea to work, they can’t be too dissimilar as Marguerite needed to exist in each one.
I just felt A Thousand Pieces of You fell into a few too many young adult clichés. Theo would have been just as an effective character had he been a platonic friend. You can still love and want to protect someone you don’t want to have sex with. But instead, they nearly fall into bed at the beginning. If love spans dimensions, why do we need a love triangle?
Then there was special snowflake syndrome. Something makes Marguerite able to tolerate dimension jumping better than others. And there’s an evil corporation; OK not just a YA cliché there, and it’s a believable enough one, but it felt too thrown in there without much thought.
Review copy provided by publisher.
I liked the concept of souls that span dimensions. We might be different people, but each version of us is has something that defies chance and chaos. Deep down, every version of ourselves is the same, no matter the circumstances. The prose often alludes to Marguerite's love of art and I felt there were some beautiful pieces of writing
The dimension jumping kept making me think of Quantum Leap. Although they only leap into themselves, but they have to learn quickly what kind of life they have landed in. We see a dimension that is ahead of us technologically and one that is behind, and another where sea levels have rose, making the scientific struggle focus on the oceans.
A large portion of the book is set in a Russia where the industrial revolution is in its early stages (they have trains but not much else). It’s not time travel, but it’s interesting to highlight how easy our world could be different. It’s probably too much to ask for more world-building for each dimension. I wanted more back story. What was the event that made that dimension different from ours? For the idea to work, they can’t be too dissimilar as Marguerite needed to exist in each one.
I just felt A Thousand Pieces of You fell into a few too many young adult clichés. Theo would have been just as an effective character had he been a platonic friend. You can still love and want to protect someone you don’t want to have sex with. But instead, they nearly fall into bed at the beginning. If love spans dimensions, why do we need a love triangle?
Then there was special snowflake syndrome. Something makes Marguerite able to tolerate dimension jumping better than others. And there’s an evil corporation; OK not just a YA cliché there, and it’s a believable enough one, but it felt too thrown in there without much thought.
Review copy provided by publisher.
Tansy’s story is shocking and heart-breaking. Her viewpoints are probably the most powerful parts of this story, even if they are limited. The world Sal now lives in is starting to become very cruel indeed and there’s some hard to swallow scenes. Fishy, new to the scene, is delusional, refusing to accept the apocalypse is really happening and he thinks he’s just inside a video game. In some of the final chapters, this becomes endearing and also made me chuckle in the face of imminent doom.
Without giving too much away, I loved the parts that were set in an abandoned chocolate factory that was kitted out to resemble Wonka’s. Apocalyptic tales are usually full of derelict buildings and a limited colour palette. It’s such fun to put in such a contrasting location. There were others living in a mall that gave a nod to Dawn of the Dead.
The sleepwalkers may not technically be zombies, but Symbiont feels much more like a zombie story than Parasite did. The tapeworms are driven by hunger, and they might nosh down on the healthy, but they are killable and they will starve. There’s a point where, through Sal’s eyes, you start to feel pity towards them. They’re not evil monsters intent on destroying humanity, unlike some people she knows. They are simply confused and starving.
My main gripe about Symbiont that meant it didn’t quite live up to Parasite, was what felt like a lack of editing. There’s a lot of repetition in Sal’s thoughts, going over and over how she has her phobia of cars and it was all SymboGen’s fault. She also keeps telling us how she came to be. If you’re halfway through the second book and haven’t grasped that yet, you’re really not paying attention. I think it would have been a lot stronger book if it were 100 pages shorter.
I’m starting to tire a little of Sal but I love the world and many of the supporting characters. The idea of tapeworms being gender neutral gives Mira Grant a chance to incorporate a trans character. Someone who is trapped inside a female body feeling that they are male. I also loved the dogs continued presence by Sal’s side. Just because it’s the end of the world, doesn’t mean there’s not time for doggy affection.
Without giving too much away, I loved the parts that were set in an abandoned chocolate factory that was kitted out to resemble Wonka’s. Apocalyptic tales are usually full of derelict buildings and a limited colour palette. It’s such fun to put in such a contrasting location. There were others living in a mall that gave a nod to Dawn of the Dead.
The sleepwalkers may not technically be zombies, but Symbiont feels much more like a zombie story than Parasite did. The tapeworms are driven by hunger, and they might nosh down on the healthy, but they are killable and they will starve. There’s a point where, through Sal’s eyes, you start to feel pity towards them. They’re not evil monsters intent on destroying humanity, unlike some people she knows. They are simply confused and starving.
My main gripe about Symbiont that meant it didn’t quite live up to Parasite, was what felt like a lack of editing. There’s a lot of repetition in Sal’s thoughts, going over and over how she has her phobia of cars and it was all SymboGen’s fault. She also keeps telling us how she came to be. If you’re halfway through the second book and haven’t grasped that yet, you’re really not paying attention. I think it would have been a lot stronger book if it were 100 pages shorter.
I’m starting to tire a little of Sal but I love the world and many of the supporting characters. The idea of tapeworms being gender neutral gives Mira Grant a chance to incorporate a trans character. Someone who is trapped inside a female body feeling that they are male. I also loved the dogs continued presence by Sal’s side. Just because it’s the end of the world, doesn’t mean there’s not time for doggy affection.
Awww, poor Doggo, everyone keeps calling him ugly. I’m not sure I’ve ever looked at a dog and thought they were ugly, even if do have mismatched body parts. Anyway, I did like the parts about Doggo but, despite what the marketing blurb says, he’s not the star of the show. It’s really a story about Dan, a freshly single, advertising man.
There was a point in my life where I might have enjoyed the ad agency storyline more but I found myself not really caring about Dan’s work. When they get the pitch for the ugly but functional car, it’s so obvious what’s that is set up for. They didn’t come across as very clever creatives for taking so much time over it. Dan jumping into bed with his ex’s sister straight away also got me off on the wrong foot. It just felt a bit off, especially for a book that I was expecting to be about a lovable dog. It’s not even like Doggo causes that much trouble.
Doggo does have some great moments though. His story is a sad one and he’s clearly an intelligent little dog. Dan decides he can’t possibly hand him back because that means the snip. He couldn’t do that to a fellow male. Actually Doggo’s a little bit laddish himself at times, including a crush on Jennifer Anniston. Maybe Waiting for Doggo is meant to be a doggy book for blokes.
I’ve seen a lot of bloggers really love this book, which makes my disappointment greater. It’s an easy read but was lacking that fuzzy feeling I’d expect from an underdog story.
Review copy provided by publisher.
There was a point in my life where I might have enjoyed the ad agency storyline more but I found myself not really caring about Dan’s work. When they get the pitch for the ugly but functional car, it’s so obvious what’s that is set up for. They didn’t come across as very clever creatives for taking so much time over it. Dan jumping into bed with his ex’s sister straight away also got me off on the wrong foot. It just felt a bit off, especially for a book that I was expecting to be about a lovable dog. It’s not even like Doggo causes that much trouble.
Doggo does have some great moments though. His story is a sad one and he’s clearly an intelligent little dog. Dan decides he can’t possibly hand him back because that means the snip. He couldn’t do that to a fellow male. Actually Doggo’s a little bit laddish himself at times, including a crush on Jennifer Anniston. Maybe Waiting for Doggo is meant to be a doggy book for blokes.
I’ve seen a lot of bloggers really love this book, which makes my disappointment greater. It’s an easy read but was lacking that fuzzy feeling I’d expect from an underdog story.
Review copy provided by publisher.
Joanne Owen weaves together aspects of Slavic folklore and the circus into her own unique mythology. Each section of the story opens with part of a fairy tale; that of a doll which keeps its owner safe. The dolls become a common motif throughout both stories.
The fairy-tale also included Baba Yaga, a well-known witch in Slavic mythology. I’m not sure if Mother Matushka was meant to be a re-working of Baba Yaga or not. Before Rosie crosses the threshold, there are plenty of references to chickens and eggs, so I was expecting there to be more to this connection. There were some similarities but then her name seems to suggest she is more connected to the Matryoshka dolls. Plus she’s not chomping down on children’s bones. I did have a look to see if the dolls were connected to any folklore, but was disappointed to find they are relatively modern (1890).
Whilst I thought the weaving of the fairy tale was wonderful, Rosie’s character development left a lot to be desired. On one hand, fairy tale characters aren’t usually well developed, but the action of modernising her, and giving her a family and real world fears, suggested that she wasn’t meant to be a cardboard cut-out. She made me feel like the book is aimed at a much younger audience.
Rosie uses the word crazy so liberally. Her mother is crazy for being annoyed at her. A horse that bolted is crazy. The acts in the circus are crazy. She feels mad-crazy. With first person narrative, it could just be an affectation of hers, but it’s hard to separate from the writing.
So I loved the fairy-tale feeling and the world-building. For the most part, it felt like it could have been a traditional folk tale. I just didn’t care at all for Rosie and found her presence a bit irritating. Plus she was amazingly slow at picking up on stuff, but not in a way that she was just buying into a magical world. I worked out what the circus stood for quite early on and I didn't feel it needed Rosie not understanding for so long. Again, it's like she was much younger than she was.
Review copy provided by publisher.
The fairy-tale also included Baba Yaga, a well-known witch in Slavic mythology. I’m not sure if Mother Matushka was meant to be a re-working of Baba Yaga or not. Before Rosie crosses the threshold, there are plenty of references to chickens and eggs, so I was expecting there to be more to this connection. There were some similarities but then her name seems to suggest she is more connected to the Matryoshka dolls. Plus she’s not chomping down on children’s bones. I did have a look to see if the dolls were connected to any folklore, but was disappointed to find they are relatively modern (1890).
Whilst I thought the weaving of the fairy tale was wonderful, Rosie’s character development left a lot to be desired. On one hand, fairy tale characters aren’t usually well developed, but the action of modernising her, and giving her a family and real world fears, suggested that she wasn’t meant to be a cardboard cut-out. She made me feel like the book is aimed at a much younger audience.
Rosie uses the word crazy so liberally. Her mother is crazy for being annoyed at her. A horse that bolted is crazy. The acts in the circus are crazy. She feels mad-crazy. With first person narrative, it could just be an affectation of hers, but it’s hard to separate from the writing.
So I loved the fairy-tale feeling and the world-building. For the most part, it felt like it could have been a traditional folk tale. I just didn’t care at all for Rosie and found her presence a bit irritating. Plus she was amazingly slow at picking up on stuff, but not in a way that she was just buying into a magical world. I worked out what the circus stood for quite early on and I didn't feel it needed Rosie not understanding for so long. Again, it's like she was much younger than she was.
Review copy provided by publisher.
I feel I should have had a proper recap of The 5th Wave before I started this. I had forgotten who Ringer was so couldn’t place the first narrator. I just knew it wasn’t Cassie but it meant it took longer than it should to get into the flow of the story. The viewpoint changes a lot, and I did have difficulty keeping track at times, the voices weren’t that differentiated.
However, I did still enjoy the second instalment. If it’s possible, things are more bleak than before. For some reason unknown to the few surviving humans, the aliens are determined to torment them, drive out all humanity and make them trust no one. They can’t even take in a poor defenceless child without doubting them.
I’m not convinced that a bomb triggered by carbon dioxide could be hidden in someone’s throat. Wouldn’t they be breathing out carbon dioxide all the time?
There’s a lot of important information given out near the end and it seemed a bit rushed. This is much shorter than the first book and I have a sneaking suspicion there was a looming deadline. I went through stages of thinking what a cop-out to not understanding and then going back to where we started like maybe it was all a big con. You know how you can’t trust anyone? So maybe it’s all genius but I was left feeling bit confused.
However, I did still enjoy the second instalment. If it’s possible, things are more bleak than before. For some reason unknown to the few surviving humans, the aliens are determined to torment them, drive out all humanity and make them trust no one. They can’t even take in a poor defenceless child without doubting them.
I’m not convinced that a bomb triggered by carbon dioxide could be hidden in someone’s throat. Wouldn’t they be breathing out carbon dioxide all the time?
There’s a lot of important information given out near the end and it seemed a bit rushed. This is much shorter than the first book and I have a sneaking suspicion there was a looming deadline. I went through stages of thinking what a cop-out to not understanding and then going back to where we started like maybe it was all a big con. You know how you can’t trust anyone? So maybe it’s all genius but I was left feeling bit confused.
Not quite as good as The Redbreast; I felt the book was a little long and it was only in the final 200 odd pages where I didn't want to put the book down. In addition, it's one of those books where the innocent party decides to hide things from the police and you know it's just the wrong thing to do. I want to shout at them to stop being so stupid! In general a good crime read.