30 November 2018
Holiday/Exam Break
Hello, everyone! I hope your December has been pleasant. I am heading into the exam period once again, so I will most likely not be posting reviews in December. Once I get home I will write lots of reviews over the holiday, though, so look forward to many more reviews in January. Have a wonderful holiday, everyone!
26 November 2018
The Land of Neverendings by Kate Saunders, 2017
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| Click to view on Goodreads |
But then very strange things start to happen. Emily dreams of talking toys visiting her bedroom, telling her that they have come from Smockeroon, and have a message for her from Bluey. A terrible black toad, who stinks of sadness, begins to stalk Ruth's house. And when a parade of penguins wearing plastic moustaches marches through their kitchen - well, Emily has to begin to wonder whether this is all a dream after all. But why are the toys here, and what could Bluey possibly be trying to tell her?
This stunning novel will tickle your funny bones as much as it pulls on your heartstrings, and is a true classic in the making.
(317 pages)
Last month I took two trips in a week and spent a lot of time in airports. I ran out of TV to watch about an hour before one of my flights, so I ducked into Waterstones and picked out The Land of Neverendings.
It was the perfect airplane book: an interesting and innovative scenario, a relatively easy read accessible even to kids, and a story that is surprisingly deep.
I really love this story idea. It's full of different kinds of grief, from Emily's raw horror after the death of her sister to her neighbor Ruth's lingering sorrow many years after her son's death. We see how Emily struggles to get through the days and holidays after Holly's death. There is also a focus on friendship, as Emily makes new friends and struggles to relate to old ones. The toys which are coming to life are the driving force behind the shifting relationships.
The toys themselves are adorable. I love watching them interact with each other and with the humans, and learning about the goofy world they live in. The idea that our toys really do inhabit the worlds we imagine for them is amazing, such a great concept. I also really enjoyed seeing Emily's relationship with Ruth, as they bond across the generations over their shared grief and their experiences observing and interacting with the toys which come to life.
All in all, this was a great read that I'm very glad I picked up. Sometimes it's nice to grab something out of the blue and rediscover the charm of reading.
Last month I took two trips in a week and spent a lot of time in airports. I ran out of TV to watch about an hour before one of my flights, so I ducked into Waterstones and picked out The Land of Neverendings.
It was the perfect airplane book: an interesting and innovative scenario, a relatively easy read accessible even to kids, and a story that is surprisingly deep.
I really love this story idea. It's full of different kinds of grief, from Emily's raw horror after the death of her sister to her neighbor Ruth's lingering sorrow many years after her son's death. We see how Emily struggles to get through the days and holidays after Holly's death. There is also a focus on friendship, as Emily makes new friends and struggles to relate to old ones. The toys which are coming to life are the driving force behind the shifting relationships.
The toys themselves are adorable. I love watching them interact with each other and with the humans, and learning about the goofy world they live in. The idea that our toys really do inhabit the worlds we imagine for them is amazing, such a great concept. I also really enjoyed seeing Emily's relationship with Ruth, as they bond across the generations over their shared grief and their experiences observing and interacting with the toys which come to life.
All in all, this was a great read that I'm very glad I picked up. Sometimes it's nice to grab something out of the blue and rediscover the charm of reading.
23 November 2018
Murder at the Flamingo by Rachel McMillan, 2018
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| Click to view on Goodreads |
Hamish DeLuca has spent most of his life trying to hide the anxiety that appears at the most inopportune times -- including during his first real court case as a new lawyer. Determined to rise above his father’s expectations, Hamish runs away to Boston where his cousin, Luca Valari, is opening a fashionable nightclub in Scollay Square. When he meets his cousin's “right hand man” Reggie, Hamish wonders if his dreams for a more normal life might be at hand.
Regina “Reggie” Van Buren, heir to a New Haven fortune, has fled fine china, small talk, and the man her parents expect her to marry. Determined to make a life as the self-sufficient city girl she’s seen in her favorite Jean Arthur and Katharine Hepburn pictures, Reggie runs away to Boston, where she finds an easy secretarial job with the suave Luca Valari. But as she and Hamish work together in Luca’s glittering world, they discover a darker side to the smashing Flamingo night club.
When a corpse is discovered at the Flamingo, Reggie and Hamish quickly learn there is a vast chasm between the haves and the have-nots in 1937 Boston—and that there’s an underworld that feeds on them both. As Hamish is forced to choose between his conscience and loyalty to his beloved cousin, the unlikely sleuthing duo work to expose a murder before the darkness destroys everything they’ve worked to build.
(343 pages)
I've always been a huge fan of mystery novels, most especially murder mysteries, so I very rarely turn down the chance to review one. Murder at the Flamingo has the added bonus of being set in the 1930s. I am also a sucker for historical fiction, especially those set in the 20s, and I was excited to read a "glamorous" book set in the 30s since books during that time usually focus on the poor people during the Great Depression. I love getting new perspectives on a time period.
As a historical novel, it completely lives up to its synopsis. McMillan gets the atmosphere just right, it really felt like it was set during the same time period as, say, The Great Gatsby. There are glamorous parties, eager and energetic (and possibly wrapped up in something illegal) young men, men who hold all the power behind the scenes, ditzy gold-diggers hanging on their arms . . . the works. I really enjoyed the atmosphere and the characters in the story.
The mystery, on the other hand, was nothing special. It's really more of a plot device to move the characters around and give Hamish and Reggie a reason to pry into the underbelly of the beast. I was never too invested in who the murderer was, and in fact the murder doesn't even take place until fairly far into the book. I didn't mind that much, though, because I was enjoying what is, essentially, a character-driven (rather than plot-driven) book.
I suppose I should talk about the main characters, Hamish and Reggie. They were both good, well-drawn people. I liked them both a lot, though I'm positive I would never meet either of them on the street. They both had interesting families and backstories, and their relationship is well done.
Really, with a few tweaks to the ending, this would have been a very nice standalone novel. Instead, however, I'm afraid the ending left me pretty frustrated. For one thing, the romance situation is just ridiculous. I'm frustrated to see how long that will go on. And the idea that they will go on to solve other crimes (as this is indeed, I discovered by Googling it, the first in a murder mystery series) sounds plausible at first glance but becomes much more questionable when I think about how much this book really wasn't focused on the murder. I would much rather read a series organically following their lives in Boston, with their ties to the seedy underbelly springing up to create problems once in a while, then the way McMillan has chosen to do it.
That said, I will of course be looking for the sequel and I may discover that I really like this approach after all. I'm trying to keep an open mind, after all. But anyway, suffice it to say that I enjoyed Murder at the Flamingo and I recommend it if you're interested in it as well.
Disclaimer: I received a complimentary copy of this book from the publisher in exchange for an honest review.
I've always been a huge fan of mystery novels, most especially murder mysteries, so I very rarely turn down the chance to review one. Murder at the Flamingo has the added bonus of being set in the 1930s. I am also a sucker for historical fiction, especially those set in the 20s, and I was excited to read a "glamorous" book set in the 30s since books during that time usually focus on the poor people during the Great Depression. I love getting new perspectives on a time period.
As a historical novel, it completely lives up to its synopsis. McMillan gets the atmosphere just right, it really felt like it was set during the same time period as, say, The Great Gatsby. There are glamorous parties, eager and energetic (and possibly wrapped up in something illegal) young men, men who hold all the power behind the scenes, ditzy gold-diggers hanging on their arms . . . the works. I really enjoyed the atmosphere and the characters in the story.
The mystery, on the other hand, was nothing special. It's really more of a plot device to move the characters around and give Hamish and Reggie a reason to pry into the underbelly of the beast. I was never too invested in who the murderer was, and in fact the murder doesn't even take place until fairly far into the book. I didn't mind that much, though, because I was enjoying what is, essentially, a character-driven (rather than plot-driven) book.
I suppose I should talk about the main characters, Hamish and Reggie. They were both good, well-drawn people. I liked them both a lot, though I'm positive I would never meet either of them on the street. They both had interesting families and backstories, and their relationship is well done.
Really, with a few tweaks to the ending, this would have been a very nice standalone novel. Instead, however, I'm afraid the ending left me pretty frustrated. For one thing, the romance situation is just ridiculous. I'm frustrated to see how long that will go on. And the idea that they will go on to solve other crimes (as this is indeed, I discovered by Googling it, the first in a murder mystery series) sounds plausible at first glance but becomes much more questionable when I think about how much this book really wasn't focused on the murder. I would much rather read a series organically following their lives in Boston, with their ties to the seedy underbelly springing up to create problems once in a while, then the way McMillan has chosen to do it.
That said, I will of course be looking for the sequel and I may discover that I really like this approach after all. I'm trying to keep an open mind, after all. But anyway, suffice it to say that I enjoyed Murder at the Flamingo and I recommend it if you're interested in it as well.
Disclaimer: I received a complimentary copy of this book from the publisher in exchange for an honest review.
19 November 2018
That's Not What Happened by Kody Keplinger, 2018
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| Click to view on Goodreads |
But it's not true.
I know because I was with her when she died. I didn't say anything then, and people got hurt because of it. Now Sarah's parents are publishing a book about her, so this might be my last chance to set the record straight . . . but I'm not the only survivor with a story to tell about what did--and didn't--happen that day.
Except Sarah's martyrdom is important to a lot of people, people who don't take kindly to what I'm trying to do. And the more I learn, the less certain I am about what's right. I don't know what will be worse: the guilt of staying silent or the consequences of speaking up . . .
(329 pages)
When this book first showed up on my doorstep, I was hesitant to crack it open.
I myself have not survived a shooting, but I lived in Baltimore for five years and I know people, or people who know people, who have been on the scene of school shootings, mall shootings, club shootings, and even the Boston marathon bombing. I don't see this sort of horrific ordeal as something that should be fictionalized and turned into entertainment, whether it's trying to make some sort of point or not. There are enough real stories out there about real victims and real survivors that it didn't seem like this book served any purpose except to drain emphasis away from those stories.
After reading it, I do appreciate its significance. Keplinger can explore the nuances of truth in the aftermath of a tragedy, and the distortions that reality can be put through in order for people to find a "meaningful story" buried in the horror, without hacking at the legacy of a real victim or forcing survivors to reopen old wounds or even defend their testimonies to a hord of truth-seeking readers.
By making up her own tragedy, and "knowing" what really happened, Keplinger can focus on her characters and on showing how the truth becomes distorted in the aftermath of a horrible event. It's a fascinating idea because, really, there are no bad guys in this book–the real bad guy, the murderer, is gone. His name is not even in the book because it is not about him. Instead we see that even the people who have twisted the truth the most did not do it maliciously. The truth was distorted in their minds because they latched on to a story they thought was true, that they needed to be true, and they refused to let it go.
This is a powerful and moving book, but it does get bogged down sometimes by some of the things Keplinger chooses to include. There's a fairly lengthy plotline about a survivor whose cousin was killed which I think got a bit too much time. I have to include a content warning because there are a couple characters who are lesbian or asexual, and also possibly some foul language (I'm afraid my copy is back home and I can't double check). Plus obviously a trigger warning: it gets fairly detailed during the flashbacks to the shooting, so don't read the book if that's going to be too hard for you.
It's a rough read, but if you don't mind the content then I think it's a pretty good one. I wasn't really satisfied with the ending, but with this sort of book that's sort of the point. There is no happy ending tied up in a bow after something so horrific has happened.
How do you feel about books that deal with such painful topics? I'm still on the fence about them, even though I appreciated this one.
Disclaimer: I received a complimentary copy of this book from the publisher in exchange for an honest review.
I myself have not survived a shooting, but I lived in Baltimore for five years and I know people, or people who know people, who have been on the scene of school shootings, mall shootings, club shootings, and even the Boston marathon bombing. I don't see this sort of horrific ordeal as something that should be fictionalized and turned into entertainment, whether it's trying to make some sort of point or not. There are enough real stories out there about real victims and real survivors that it didn't seem like this book served any purpose except to drain emphasis away from those stories.
After reading it, I do appreciate its significance. Keplinger can explore the nuances of truth in the aftermath of a tragedy, and the distortions that reality can be put through in order for people to find a "meaningful story" buried in the horror, without hacking at the legacy of a real victim or forcing survivors to reopen old wounds or even defend their testimonies to a hord of truth-seeking readers.
By making up her own tragedy, and "knowing" what really happened, Keplinger can focus on her characters and on showing how the truth becomes distorted in the aftermath of a horrible event. It's a fascinating idea because, really, there are no bad guys in this book–the real bad guy, the murderer, is gone. His name is not even in the book because it is not about him. Instead we see that even the people who have twisted the truth the most did not do it maliciously. The truth was distorted in their minds because they latched on to a story they thought was true, that they needed to be true, and they refused to let it go.
This is a powerful and moving book, but it does get bogged down sometimes by some of the things Keplinger chooses to include. There's a fairly lengthy plotline about a survivor whose cousin was killed which I think got a bit too much time. I have to include a content warning because there are a couple characters who are lesbian or asexual, and also possibly some foul language (I'm afraid my copy is back home and I can't double check). Plus obviously a trigger warning: it gets fairly detailed during the flashbacks to the shooting, so don't read the book if that's going to be too hard for you.
It's a rough read, but if you don't mind the content then I think it's a pretty good one. I wasn't really satisfied with the ending, but with this sort of book that's sort of the point. There is no happy ending tied up in a bow after something so horrific has happened.
How do you feel about books that deal with such painful topics? I'm still on the fence about them, even though I appreciated this one.
Disclaimer: I received a complimentary copy of this book from the publisher in exchange for an honest review.
16 November 2018
A Light So Lovely by Sarah Arthur, 2018
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| Click to view on Goodreads |
A Light So Lovely paints a vivid portrait of this enigmatic icon's spiritual legacy, starting with her inner world and expanding into fresh reflections of her writing for readers today. Listen in on intimate interviews with L'Engle's literary contemporaries such as Philip Yancey and Luci Shaw, L'Engle's granddaughter Charlotte Jones Voiklis, and influential fans such as Makoto Fujimura, Nikki Grimes, and Sarah Bessey, as they reveal new layers to the woman behind the stories we know and love. A vibrant, imaginative read, this book pulls back the curtain to illuminate L'Engle's creative journey, her persevering faith, and the inspiring, often unexpected ways these two forces converged.
For anyone earnestly searching the space between sacred and secular, miracle and science, faith and art, comeand find a kindred spirit and trusted guide in Madeleine - the Mrs Whatsit to our Meg Murry - as she sparks our imagination anew.
(224 pages)
When I was young and tearing through every children's book I could find in the house, I stumbled across my mother's childhood copies of Madeleine L'Engle's Time Quintet. I picked up A Wrinkle in Time with absolutely no preconceived ideaas about it . . . and I absolutely loved it.
There's something so grabbing about the way those books take reality and flip it inside out, challenging our ideas of how the universe works. It's been many, many years since I last reread any of the books, but there are so many things I still remember so vividly from them.
One thing I do not vividly remember? Any references to God or Christianity, or any indication that L'Engle was a Christian. I mean, it seems obvious reading A Light So Lovely, but as a little girl reading the books I just found them to be interesting and exciting with no more religious subtext than any of the other books I was reading at the time (though I also didn't notice the symbolism in the Chronicles of Narnia until someone pointed out to me that Aslan is Jesus, so take this with a certain grain of salt). It doesn't surprise me at all that some Christians denounced the series as being too new-agey, and in fact my mom was just as surprised as I was that L'Engle was some big Christian writer. She thought the books were just science fiction.
Anyway, all this buildup is to say that I found the discussion of L'Engle's life and faith in A Light So Lovely very interesting. I suppose it adds something to the series, though I admit I was just as happy when the books were just fun adventures without all this subtext. A Light So Lovely makes a lot of interesting points about L'Engle's faith and life, though I have to say that it's fairly disjointed and feels almost disorganized at times. It's organized into topical chapters like "Truth and Story" and "Religion and Art," each of which bring in lots of quotes from different people. But they often jump around in the timeline, so it's quite confusing. And I honestly don't really care that much about Madeleine L'Engle herself, so reading a bunch of quotes and conversations with other people I've never even heard of talking about her was not exactly exhilarating.
Above all, I think I would have much rather read a straight-up biography of her life than this slightly meandering discussion of her perspectives on religion and her habit of basically only seeing/remembering things in a way that fit her narrative. My mom tried to read it and stopped halfway through, similarly stating that she'd rather have just read a biography.
The book does include so many great quotes from L'Engle herself, though, so I'm going to end this review with a couple of my favorites:
When I was young and tearing through every children's book I could find in the house, I stumbled across my mother's childhood copies of Madeleine L'Engle's Time Quintet. I picked up A Wrinkle in Time with absolutely no preconceived ideaas about it . . . and I absolutely loved it.
There's something so grabbing about the way those books take reality and flip it inside out, challenging our ideas of how the universe works. It's been many, many years since I last reread any of the books, but there are so many things I still remember so vividly from them.
One thing I do not vividly remember? Any references to God or Christianity, or any indication that L'Engle was a Christian. I mean, it seems obvious reading A Light So Lovely, but as a little girl reading the books I just found them to be interesting and exciting with no more religious subtext than any of the other books I was reading at the time (though I also didn't notice the symbolism in the Chronicles of Narnia until someone pointed out to me that Aslan is Jesus, so take this with a certain grain of salt). It doesn't surprise me at all that some Christians denounced the series as being too new-agey, and in fact my mom was just as surprised as I was that L'Engle was some big Christian writer. She thought the books were just science fiction.
Anyway, all this buildup is to say that I found the discussion of L'Engle's life and faith in A Light So Lovely very interesting. I suppose it adds something to the series, though I admit I was just as happy when the books were just fun adventures without all this subtext. A Light So Lovely makes a lot of interesting points about L'Engle's faith and life, though I have to say that it's fairly disjointed and feels almost disorganized at times. It's organized into topical chapters like "Truth and Story" and "Religion and Art," each of which bring in lots of quotes from different people. But they often jump around in the timeline, so it's quite confusing. And I honestly don't really care that much about Madeleine L'Engle herself, so reading a bunch of quotes and conversations with other people I've never even heard of talking about her was not exactly exhilarating.
Above all, I think I would have much rather read a straight-up biography of her life than this slightly meandering discussion of her perspectives on religion and her habit of basically only seeing/remembering things in a way that fit her narrative. My mom tried to read it and stopped halfway through, similarly stating that she'd rather have just read a biography.
The book does include so many great quotes from L'Engle herself, though, so I'm going to end this review with a couple of my favorites:
"If it's bad art, it's bad religion, no matter how pious the subject."
Like it or not, we either add to the darkness of indifference and out-and-out evil which surround us or we light a candle to see by."Disclaimer: I received a complimentary copy of this book from the publisher in exchange for an honest review.
12 November 2018
Maiden Voyage by Sarah Jane, 2018
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| Click to view on Goodreads |
Lucille is worried over her mother's poor health, and her father is always distracted, never around. Left to her own devices, Lucille discovers some dangerous secrets that could tear her family apart.
Abby is desperate. She's all her little brother has in the world, and her only hope is start a new life in New York. But the only way to do that is to smuggle her little brother aboard the Titanic and hope they can last the week without him getting caught.
Three girls, three different classes on the ship, yet their pasts and futures are more intertwined than they know--and their lives are about to be forever changed over the course of the Titanic's maiden voyage. That is, if they don't all drown in secrets first.
(256 pages)
I think at this point most regular readers of this blog know that I used to be obsessed with the Titanic.
By "used to be" I mean "not-so-secretly still am." Over winter break, I travelled (basically pilgrimaged) to Belfast, Northern Ireland to check out their Titanic museum on the ground where it was constructed.
I have to be perfectly honest and say that it's been a fair while since I actually read Maiden Voyage (I snapped it up as soon as I got it, but haven't neeed to review it for quite a while), and I don't have my copy here in college so I can't thumb back through it. I've actually forgotten a fair bit of the story, which I suppose in itself says something about the book.
Anyway, this is the third fictional novel I've reviewed on here set on board the Titanic. Of those, I do know that it's definitely my favorite. I actually cared about the characters and their stories, and I found the representation of the atmosphere onboard the Titanic in all three classes to be pretty authentic. I liked that there were a couple different storylines going on, and I found all of them to be pretty interesting (if quite melodramatic at times, even before they hit the iceberg).
My main complaint is that I kept getting the girls confused, especially Isabella and Lucille. It's strange, because their names are nothing alike, but I think they were just such generic names of similar "poshness" (and let's be honest, Isabella actually sounds more highbrow than Lucille does) that I couldn't keep track of which name went to which character. I had to stop and recalibrate a few times while reading, but other than that it wasn't really a huge problem. Just a nuisance.
Anyway, Maiden Voyage is a nice read both as a "chick-flick" type drama novel and as a pretty authentic historical fiction set onboard the Titanic. I quite enjoyed it, and I hope you do, too.
Comment below and tell us what really nerdy place you would travel to visit!
Disclaimer: I received a complimentary copy of this novel from the publisher in exchange for an honest review.
I think at this point most regular readers of this blog know that I used to be obsessed with the Titanic.
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| The Titanic Museum in Belfast |
I have to be perfectly honest and say that it's been a fair while since I actually read Maiden Voyage (I snapped it up as soon as I got it, but haven't neeed to review it for quite a while), and I don't have my copy here in college so I can't thumb back through it. I've actually forgotten a fair bit of the story, which I suppose in itself says something about the book.
Anyway, this is the third fictional novel I've reviewed on here set on board the Titanic. Of those, I do know that it's definitely my favorite. I actually cared about the characters and their stories, and I found the representation of the atmosphere onboard the Titanic in all three classes to be pretty authentic. I liked that there were a couple different storylines going on, and I found all of them to be pretty interesting (if quite melodramatic at times, even before they hit the iceberg).
My main complaint is that I kept getting the girls confused, especially Isabella and Lucille. It's strange, because their names are nothing alike, but I think they were just such generic names of similar "poshness" (and let's be honest, Isabella actually sounds more highbrow than Lucille does) that I couldn't keep track of which name went to which character. I had to stop and recalibrate a few times while reading, but other than that it wasn't really a huge problem. Just a nuisance.
Anyway, Maiden Voyage is a nice read both as a "chick-flick" type drama novel and as a pretty authentic historical fiction set onboard the Titanic. I quite enjoyed it, and I hope you do, too.
Comment below and tell us what really nerdy place you would travel to visit!
Disclaimer: I received a complimentary copy of this novel from the publisher in exchange for an honest review.
09 November 2018
From You To Me by K.A. Holt, 2018
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| Click to view on Goodreads |
Amelia wonders if it's a sign from Clara. Maybe if she completed the list, her heart would stop hurting so much, and she could go back to being her old self. But as she makes her way through, Amelia finds that there's no going back, only forward. And she realizes she'll have to put her own spin on Clara's list to grow and change in the ways she needs to.
K. A. Holt's beautiful new novel is about grieving and growing up, and the ripples loss creates for a girl, a family, and a community.
(208 pages)
I'm not exactly sure how it happened, but I read a lot of books about death and grief this summer. Whereas both Planet Grief and Speechless tackle the aftermath of death through a setting which forces the characters to deal with their feelings (a group counselling session and a wake, respectively), From You To Me shows Amelia's struggles to cope with her overwhelming grief long after the dust has settled and the rest of the world has moved on.
It's a sad angle, and I thought Holt's representation of Amelia's grief was well done (though I'm lucky enough not to have first-hand experience in this field). However, at times I got really frustrated with Amelia. Her best friend really is a wonderful friend, putting up with way more crap than I would probably have been able to handle in her shoes. Amelia's parents are less great, but that's to be expected since they're coping with their own grief. I did kind of hate how hard her father was pushing to get his wife and daughter to come back to the lake with him (in their shoes, I don't think I'd ever go near large bodies of water ever again!).
I liked the book, but somehow it didn't hit me quite as well as the other two grief books I've read this summer. I don't know why exactly that is, but I suspect part of it is because I got pretty frustrated with Amelia at times, and perhaps partly because as a Christian I was a little uncomfortable about Amelia's thoughts on the afterlife. On the whole, though, it's a pretty good book.
If you're on a kick looking for stories about girls coping with the death of their older sister, I recommend Riding the Flume by Patricia Curtis Pfitch. That's been one of my favorite books for over a decade!
Disclaimer: I received a complimentary copy of this book from the publisher in exchange for an honest review.
I'm not exactly sure how it happened, but I read a lot of books about death and grief this summer. Whereas both Planet Grief and Speechless tackle the aftermath of death through a setting which forces the characters to deal with their feelings (a group counselling session and a wake, respectively), From You To Me shows Amelia's struggles to cope with her overwhelming grief long after the dust has settled and the rest of the world has moved on.
It's a sad angle, and I thought Holt's representation of Amelia's grief was well done (though I'm lucky enough not to have first-hand experience in this field). However, at times I got really frustrated with Amelia. Her best friend really is a wonderful friend, putting up with way more crap than I would probably have been able to handle in her shoes. Amelia's parents are less great, but that's to be expected since they're coping with their own grief. I did kind of hate how hard her father was pushing to get his wife and daughter to come back to the lake with him (in their shoes, I don't think I'd ever go near large bodies of water ever again!).
I liked the book, but somehow it didn't hit me quite as well as the other two grief books I've read this summer. I don't know why exactly that is, but I suspect part of it is because I got pretty frustrated with Amelia at times, and perhaps partly because as a Christian I was a little uncomfortable about Amelia's thoughts on the afterlife. On the whole, though, it's a pretty good book.
If you're on a kick looking for stories about girls coping with the death of their older sister, I recommend Riding the Flume by Patricia Curtis Pfitch. That's been one of my favorite books for over a decade!
Disclaimer: I received a complimentary copy of this book from the publisher in exchange for an honest review.
05 November 2018
Speechless by Adam P. Schmitt, 2018
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| Click to view on Goodreads |
As if being stuffed into last year's dress pants at his cousin's wake weren't uncomfortable enough, thirteen-year-old Jimmy has just learned from his mother that he has to say a few words at the funeral the next day. Why him? What could he possibly say about his cousin, who ruined everything they did? He can't recall one birthday party, family gathering, or school event with Patrick that didn't result in injury or destruction. As Jimmy attempts to navigate the odd social norms of the wake, he draws on humor, heartfelt concern, and a good deal of angst while racking his brain and his memory for a decent and meaningful memory to share. But it's not until faced with a microphone that the realization finally hits him: it's not the words that are spoken that matter the most, but those that are truly heard.
(304 pages)
You'd think a book set at a young boy's wake would be way too morbid to be entertaining.
Somehow, Speechless isn't. It's sad, of course, but Schmitt straddles that line between sorrowful and funny very carefully. Little details, like Jimmy's aunt who is an "expert wake-goer" and Jimmy's ongoing struggles with the dress pants he's outgrown, add a morbid sort of humor to the present-day scenes.
The flashbacks to memories with Patrick start out as comedic interludes as well, but they grow increasingly sadder as the book progresses, painting a picture of Patrick's struggles with what was probably undiagnosed ADHD, or something similar. I got so mad at his parents, because they did such an awful job helping him.
The narrative jumps around a lot, as Jimmy flashes back to all these different memories of Patrick, but since the flashbacks go roughly in order it never becomes too confusing. I thought it was very well done, and by the end of the book I felt like I knew all the members of both Jimmy's and Patrick's families quite well. I got very mad at some of the parents at times (especially Patrick's father and Jimmy's mother!), but it was clear that they were all doing the best that they could and I appreciated that level of realism–no one was ever turned into a stereotype, for good or bad.
Speechless takes material that would normally be overwhelmingly depressing and manages to make it entertaining. It's still sad, of course–Patrick's death was a colossal tragedy. But the tragedy is handled near perfectly, and it's wonderful. Don't read this book if you're dealing with death in your own life, of course, but I think most other readers could definitely get something out of Speechless.
Disclaimer: I received a complimentary copy of this book from the publisher in exchange for an honest review.
You'd think a book set at a young boy's wake would be way too morbid to be entertaining.
Somehow, Speechless isn't. It's sad, of course, but Schmitt straddles that line between sorrowful and funny very carefully. Little details, like Jimmy's aunt who is an "expert wake-goer" and Jimmy's ongoing struggles with the dress pants he's outgrown, add a morbid sort of humor to the present-day scenes.
The flashbacks to memories with Patrick start out as comedic interludes as well, but they grow increasingly sadder as the book progresses, painting a picture of Patrick's struggles with what was probably undiagnosed ADHD, or something similar. I got so mad at his parents, because they did such an awful job helping him.
The narrative jumps around a lot, as Jimmy flashes back to all these different memories of Patrick, but since the flashbacks go roughly in order it never becomes too confusing. I thought it was very well done, and by the end of the book I felt like I knew all the members of both Jimmy's and Patrick's families quite well. I got very mad at some of the parents at times (especially Patrick's father and Jimmy's mother!), but it was clear that they were all doing the best that they could and I appreciated that level of realism–no one was ever turned into a stereotype, for good or bad.
Speechless takes material that would normally be overwhelmingly depressing and manages to make it entertaining. It's still sad, of course–Patrick's death was a colossal tragedy. But the tragedy is handled near perfectly, and it's wonderful. Don't read this book if you're dealing with death in your own life, of course, but I think most other readers could definitely get something out of Speechless.
Disclaimer: I received a complimentary copy of this book from the publisher in exchange for an honest review.
02 November 2018
Imposters by Scott Westerfield, 2018
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| Click to view on Goodreads |
(416 pages)
Okay, is this not just the coolest premise ever? I used to desperately wish I were an identical twin because I wanted to trick people by trading places with my sister. In Imposters, this idea is taken to the ultimate extreme and we get to explore the consequences on the "bodyguard" sister's psyche.
Before I go any further, I should mention that though this book is the first Scott Westerfield novel I've ever read, it's actually the fifth book in the Uglies series. I have no idea what might be spoilers for the first four books, so please proceed with caution if you're afraid of spoilers.
Anyway, with that out of the way, I have to say that I find the worldbuilding fascinating. It seems that the main characters in the original Uglies books won some sort of fight against a dystopian government, which was seen as a triumph at the time, but now in Imposters we see how a triumph of good didn't magically fix everyone's problems: men like Frey's father leapt into the power void and molded the leftover society any way they chose. It's cool to see how varied the cities are, depending on what sort of family rules over them.
Frey's story itself is a cool one, as I touched upon in my opening paragraph, and I loved watching her explore the world outside her secluded warrior upbringing. Her relationship with her sister is the most important thing in the world to her, but she is suddenly thrust into a world full of other people to interact with. I wasn't a huge fan of her relationship with Col at first, since it felt kind of forced, but they grew on me over time.
My main gripe with the book is that while it's pretty violent (I definitely wouldn't recommend it for younger or sensitive readers), the plot meanders a bit. There's a fair amount of wandering around, when the characters don't know exactly what's going on. There are also some groups of characters who are presented like I'm already supposed to know about them, but I don't–holdovers from the earlier books, I suppose.
All in all, though, it was a grabbing read that kept me turning the pages. And that ending was killer! I can't wait for the next book now.
Disclaimer: I received a complimentary copy of this book from the publisher in exchange for an honest review.
Okay, is this not just the coolest premise ever? I used to desperately wish I were an identical twin because I wanted to trick people by trading places with my sister. In Imposters, this idea is taken to the ultimate extreme and we get to explore the consequences on the "bodyguard" sister's psyche.
Before I go any further, I should mention that though this book is the first Scott Westerfield novel I've ever read, it's actually the fifth book in the Uglies series. I have no idea what might be spoilers for the first four books, so please proceed with caution if you're afraid of spoilers.
Anyway, with that out of the way, I have to say that I find the worldbuilding fascinating. It seems that the main characters in the original Uglies books won some sort of fight against a dystopian government, which was seen as a triumph at the time, but now in Imposters we see how a triumph of good didn't magically fix everyone's problems: men like Frey's father leapt into the power void and molded the leftover society any way they chose. It's cool to see how varied the cities are, depending on what sort of family rules over them.
Frey's story itself is a cool one, as I touched upon in my opening paragraph, and I loved watching her explore the world outside her secluded warrior upbringing. Her relationship with her sister is the most important thing in the world to her, but she is suddenly thrust into a world full of other people to interact with. I wasn't a huge fan of her relationship with Col at first, since it felt kind of forced, but they grew on me over time.
My main gripe with the book is that while it's pretty violent (I definitely wouldn't recommend it for younger or sensitive readers), the plot meanders a bit. There's a fair amount of wandering around, when the characters don't know exactly what's going on. There are also some groups of characters who are presented like I'm already supposed to know about them, but I don't–holdovers from the earlier books, I suppose.
All in all, though, it was a grabbing read that kept me turning the pages. And that ending was killer! I can't wait for the next book now.
Disclaimer: I received a complimentary copy of this book from the publisher in exchange for an honest review.
29 October 2018
Louisiana's Way Home by Kate DiCamillo, 2018
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| Click to view on Goodreads |
When Louisiana Elefante’s granny wakes her up in the middle of the night to tell her that the day of reckoning has arrived and they have to leave home immediately, Louisiana isn’t overly worried. After all, Granny has many middle-of-the-night ideas. But this time, things are different. This time, Granny intends for them never to return. Separated from her best friends, Raymie and Beverly, Louisiana struggles to oppose the winds of fate (and Granny) and find a way home. But as Louisiana’s life becomes entwined with the lives of the people of a small Georgia town — including a surly motel owner, a walrus-like minister, and a mysterious boy with a crow on his shoulder — she starts to worry that she is destined only for good-byes. (Which could be due to the curse on Louisiana’s and Granny’s heads. But that is a story for another time.)
Called “one of DiCamillo’s most singular and arresting creations” by The New York Times Book Review, the heartbreakingly irresistible Louisiana Elefante was introduced to readers in Raymie Nightingale — and now, with humor and tenderness, Kate DiCamillo returns to tell her story.
(240 pages)
I've been enjoying Kate DiCamillo's books for many years now, ever since we did Because of Winn-Dixie as a read-aloud in second grade. From her picture books to her novels, she always crafts a story that is accessible to younger readers, enjoyable, and still somehow meaningful.
She has definitely continued this trend with Louisiana's Way Home. The book may skate dangerously close in parts to the "Southern quirky charm" cliche that I've grown really sick of, but it never crosses that line to become annoying. DiCamillo does a wonderful job of blending quirky-funny characters with situations (and even other characters) which are legitimately frustrating/challenging, rather than just playing off their charms. Louisiana meets many adults over the course of her attempts to return home, some of whom try to help her and others who look down their noses and suspect her of ulterior motives.
I should talk briefly about Granny's role in the book. She's one of those "quirky" characters whose actions become quite questionable, and I appreciated that DiCamillo had Louisiana struggle with her problematic behavior. I would have liked even more discussion of how some of Granny's actions were completely irresonsible and dangerous, but I suppose that would have been too much of a drag for a book ultimately written for children.
Honestly, my main complaint is that the book is too short. This is a common issue I have with books written for younger readers, and I think my frustration with the book's length just serves as evidence that it was good enough that I wanted to read more! Fans of Because of Winn-Dixie will definitely enjoy this newest novel from DiCamillo.
Have you read any books by Kate DiCamillo? If so, comment below which is your favorite!
Disclaimer: I received a complimentary copy of this novel from the publisher in exchange for an honest review.
I've been enjoying Kate DiCamillo's books for many years now, ever since we did Because of Winn-Dixie as a read-aloud in second grade. From her picture books to her novels, she always crafts a story that is accessible to younger readers, enjoyable, and still somehow meaningful.
She has definitely continued this trend with Louisiana's Way Home. The book may skate dangerously close in parts to the "Southern quirky charm" cliche that I've grown really sick of, but it never crosses that line to become annoying. DiCamillo does a wonderful job of blending quirky-funny characters with situations (and even other characters) which are legitimately frustrating/challenging, rather than just playing off their charms. Louisiana meets many adults over the course of her attempts to return home, some of whom try to help her and others who look down their noses and suspect her of ulterior motives.
I should talk briefly about Granny's role in the book. She's one of those "quirky" characters whose actions become quite questionable, and I appreciated that DiCamillo had Louisiana struggle with her problematic behavior. I would have liked even more discussion of how some of Granny's actions were completely irresonsible and dangerous, but I suppose that would have been too much of a drag for a book ultimately written for children.
Honestly, my main complaint is that the book is too short. This is a common issue I have with books written for younger readers, and I think my frustration with the book's length just serves as evidence that it was good enough that I wanted to read more! Fans of Because of Winn-Dixie will definitely enjoy this newest novel from DiCamillo.
Have you read any books by Kate DiCamillo? If so, comment below which is your favorite!
Disclaimer: I received a complimentary copy of this novel from the publisher in exchange for an honest review.
26 October 2018
Good Rosie! by Kate DiCamillo, illustrated by Harry Bliss, 2018
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| Click to view on Goodreads |
Rosie is a good dog and a faithful companion to her owner, George. She likes taking walks with George and looking at the clouds together, but the closest she comes to another dog is when she encounters her reflection in her empty dog bowl, and sometimes that makes Rosie feel lonely. One day George takes Rosie to the dog park, but the park is full of dogs that Rosie doesn’t know, which makes her feel lonelier than ever. When big, loud Maurice and small, yippy Fifi bound over and want to play, Rosie’s not sure how to respond. Is there a trick to making friends? And if so, can they all figure it out together?
(32 pages)
What a cute book!
I don't usually go for childrens' books, but when I got the invitation to review this new little comic book by Kate DiCamillo I thought it looked great and snapped it up.
It's definitely a lot shorter than my usual fare, but it's still fun! The story is a simple one but a very sweet one, about a lonely little dog with a lovely old owner and her attempts to make friends at the dog park.
When I think about the story a little more, I realize that it's also a great entry point into a conversation with children about how people from very diverse backgrounds, or with very different personalities, can still respect each other and become good friends. The fact that it opens that door so subtly, as one of many possible things you could talk about rather than overtly making it the Main Point of the story, is actually a huge point in its favor in my book.
The artwork is very pretty, in the same style as the cover. I have to admit that at the time of writing this review I don't have access to my copy, so I can't flip through it again and go into much detail, but suffice it to say that I really liked the cute depictions of the characters. They were sweet and not overly cartoonish or exaggerated.
All in all, this is a very sweet children's book. I'm sure there are going to be children out there who have their parents read it to death, if for no other reason than because of the adorable dogs, and it's a story with only good messages that parents likely won't mind reading (at least the first few times). If you're looking for a children's book for a kid in your life, you definitely can't go wrong with Good Rosie!.
Disclaimer: I received a complimentary copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.
What a cute book!
I don't usually go for childrens' books, but when I got the invitation to review this new little comic book by Kate DiCamillo I thought it looked great and snapped it up.
It's definitely a lot shorter than my usual fare, but it's still fun! The story is a simple one but a very sweet one, about a lonely little dog with a lovely old owner and her attempts to make friends at the dog park.
When I think about the story a little more, I realize that it's also a great entry point into a conversation with children about how people from very diverse backgrounds, or with very different personalities, can still respect each other and become good friends. The fact that it opens that door so subtly, as one of many possible things you could talk about rather than overtly making it the Main Point of the story, is actually a huge point in its favor in my book.
The artwork is very pretty, in the same style as the cover. I have to admit that at the time of writing this review I don't have access to my copy, so I can't flip through it again and go into much detail, but suffice it to say that I really liked the cute depictions of the characters. They were sweet and not overly cartoonish or exaggerated.
All in all, this is a very sweet children's book. I'm sure there are going to be children out there who have their parents read it to death, if for no other reason than because of the adorable dogs, and it's a story with only good messages that parents likely won't mind reading (at least the first few times). If you're looking for a children's book for a kid in your life, you definitely can't go wrong with Good Rosie!.
Disclaimer: I received a complimentary copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.
22 October 2018
Edge of Yesterday and Da Vinci's Way by Robin Stevens Payes, 2017/2018
When thirteen-year-old geek-girl Charley Morton decides to build what she believes is Leonardo da Vinci's design for a time machine for the middle school science fair, she has two thoughts in mind: to win first prize and to travel back in time to meet her idol, Leonardo. Her goal: to find out how the Renaissance artist, engineer, scientist, musician, anatomist, and inventor managed to do it all.
(123 pages)
When the author's publicist reached out to me to about reviewing these two books, I was intrigued by the description of Payes's Edge of Yesterday learning platform focused on bringing girls to STEM/STEAM. As a second-year female computer science student myself, I am always interested in developments in that area.
I'm afraid that I was pretty disappointed, though. For starters, the books were both pretty short and moved jerkily. The plot moved slowly in some ways and way too fast in others, and the main characters' personalities are pretty roughly sketched out.
My main issue with the books has less to do with the writing than it does with its central purpose: encouraging girls to enter STEM. I can tell that Payes means well, but Charley basically comes across as a slightly ditzy girl with lots of half-hearted interests and a soppy fangirl attraction to a historical figure. She doesn't invent the time machine, or even the idea for the time machine–she literally just follows clues left behind by a vision and a male time traveller from the past to figure out approximately what should happen, then hands the materials over to her genius friend Billy to actually construct it. Then she accidentally triggers it and winds up in the past.
I'm serious. In a series meant to be about female empowerment, the female main character follows the lead of one guy and literally hands over the technical part of the construction to another guy. How is that empowering? Why couldn't Charley have been the one to do the wiring and figure out how to make the time machine work? I've read fantasy novels set in entirely different worlds with girls who do more hands-on technical work, and yet this is touting itself as a platform for encouraging girls to go into STEM.
And that's not even going into the issues I had with Charley's (often idiotic) behavior in the past, and her new "friend" who happens to look and often behave exactly like a friend from her own time who's been acting catty lately. Because of course the only female friendship in the entire series has to be a negative one.
Gah. I'm just done with this. We could argue about whether "rah-rah girls in science!" books are even necessary, but if you're promising to offer an empowering story then you need to come through on that promise.
Disclaimer: I received a complimentary copy of these books in exchange for an honest review.
When the author's publicist reached out to me to about reviewing these two books, I was intrigued by the description of Payes's Edge of Yesterday learning platform focused on bringing girls to STEM/STEAM. As a second-year female computer science student myself, I am always interested in developments in that area.
I'm afraid that I was pretty disappointed, though. For starters, the books were both pretty short and moved jerkily. The plot moved slowly in some ways and way too fast in others, and the main characters' personalities are pretty roughly sketched out.
My main issue with the books has less to do with the writing than it does with its central purpose: encouraging girls to enter STEM. I can tell that Payes means well, but Charley basically comes across as a slightly ditzy girl with lots of half-hearted interests and a soppy fangirl attraction to a historical figure. She doesn't invent the time machine, or even the idea for the time machine–she literally just follows clues left behind by a vision and a male time traveller from the past to figure out approximately what should happen, then hands the materials over to her genius friend Billy to actually construct it. Then she accidentally triggers it and winds up in the past.
I'm serious. In a series meant to be about female empowerment, the female main character follows the lead of one guy and literally hands over the technical part of the construction to another guy. How is that empowering? Why couldn't Charley have been the one to do the wiring and figure out how to make the time machine work? I've read fantasy novels set in entirely different worlds with girls who do more hands-on technical work, and yet this is touting itself as a platform for encouraging girls to go into STEM.
And that's not even going into the issues I had with Charley's (often idiotic) behavior in the past, and her new "friend" who happens to look and often behave exactly like a friend from her own time who's been acting catty lately. Because of course the only female friendship in the entire series has to be a negative one.
Gah. I'm just done with this. We could argue about whether "rah-rah girls in science!" books are even necessary, but if you're promising to offer an empowering story then you need to come through on that promise.
Disclaimer: I received a complimentary copy of these books in exchange for an honest review.
19 October 2018
The Bigfoot Files by Lindsay Eagar, 2018
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| Click to view on Goodreads |
(384 pages)
Um . . . okay.
I mean, I don't believe in the Loch Ness Monster or the Frogman or Bigfoot or any other fantastic creature for that matter. I like books that play with their existence, or that work them into the plot, but I don't believe they're real.
Miranda's mother does, and she's gone really nuts about proving that they are. And that's great and all, and the book is a nice story about mother-daughter bonding, but at the same time I still don't really agree with the mother at all.
Like, just because something exists doesn't mean you need to prove it's real (especially when it's clearly trying so hard to stay hidden). And you definitely should not be dragging your young daughter around to do it, continually disrupting her education and messing with her plans and making her panic your failing finances just because you need to go on yet another search for a crazy creature. But somehow they both think that if these creatures are real, what Miranda's mother has done make sense. It doesn't.
I couldn't really get over that. I also thought that Miranda's attempts at using the scientific method were kind of spotty, and I actually really related to her love for list-making but even I thought her approach to planning everything down to the nano-detail was a bit much.
It was an interesting enough read, but for my tastes it was a little too zany to be a good realistic novel and a little too realistic to be a fun zany novel. By all means do give it a go if you're curious about it, though.
Disclaimer: I received a complimentary copy of this book from the publisher in exchange for an honest review.
Um . . . okay.
I mean, I don't believe in the Loch Ness Monster or the Frogman or Bigfoot or any other fantastic creature for that matter. I like books that play with their existence, or that work them into the plot, but I don't believe they're real.
Miranda's mother does, and she's gone really nuts about proving that they are. And that's great and all, and the book is a nice story about mother-daughter bonding, but at the same time I still don't really agree with the mother at all.
Like, just because something exists doesn't mean you need to prove it's real (especially when it's clearly trying so hard to stay hidden). And you definitely should not be dragging your young daughter around to do it, continually disrupting her education and messing with her plans and making her panic your failing finances just because you need to go on yet another search for a crazy creature. But somehow they both think that if these creatures are real, what Miranda's mother has done make sense. It doesn't.
I couldn't really get over that. I also thought that Miranda's attempts at using the scientific method were kind of spotty, and I actually really related to her love for list-making but even I thought her approach to planning everything down to the nano-detail was a bit much.
It was an interesting enough read, but for my tastes it was a little too zany to be a good realistic novel and a little too realistic to be a fun zany novel. By all means do give it a go if you're curious about it, though.
Disclaimer: I received a complimentary copy of this book from the publisher in exchange for an honest review.
15 October 2018
Begone the Raggedy Witches by Celine Kiernan, 2018
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| Click to view on Goodreads |
(288 pages)
I used to gulp down books by the dozen about girls who discover their family has secret ties to a fantasy realm and they have to go on some sort of quest in it. You know the type: there's usually a unicorn involved, and/or a couple of fairies or other fantastic creatures, and someone is always related to royalty.
Begone the Raggedy Witches uses some of these tropes, but plays with them so much that they're nearly unrecognizable. I really love the fact that Mup's mother is the "special one," rather than Mup herself being it. For most of the story Mup is basically a distraction/side character on her mother's quest. That sounds like it would be boring, but it's not. Because Mup's innocent, childish observation of the strife in Witches Borough, and her mother's role in returning to save her husband, is a wonderful way to lighten what could have very easily turned into a depressingly dark book.
It's still quite dark in places, with some death and discussion of child abandonment and questions about what it means to be family. Mup's aunt died right before the book began, but her ghost accompanies the family on much of its quest; Mup sees the moral conflict that her aunt's decision to run away from home entailed, as she saved herself and her sister but left the rest of her friends and people behind to face her mother's wrath.
There are people who can turn into animals and men who are forced to say everything in rhyme, and the magical world is just so interesting and miserable at the same time that I was fascinated by it. Even when the story veered into predictable territory (as it did, essentially, follow the pattern left by many books before it), it did so in a way that was still novel and intriguing.
All in all, Begone the Raggedy Witches is an interesting new story that I enjoyed reading (even when it got rather dark). I'm looking forward to continuing the trilogy!
Disclaimer: I received a complimentary copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.
I used to gulp down books by the dozen about girls who discover their family has secret ties to a fantasy realm and they have to go on some sort of quest in it. You know the type: there's usually a unicorn involved, and/or a couple of fairies or other fantastic creatures, and someone is always related to royalty.
Begone the Raggedy Witches uses some of these tropes, but plays with them so much that they're nearly unrecognizable. I really love the fact that Mup's mother is the "special one," rather than Mup herself being it. For most of the story Mup is basically a distraction/side character on her mother's quest. That sounds like it would be boring, but it's not. Because Mup's innocent, childish observation of the strife in Witches Borough, and her mother's role in returning to save her husband, is a wonderful way to lighten what could have very easily turned into a depressingly dark book.
It's still quite dark in places, with some death and discussion of child abandonment and questions about what it means to be family. Mup's aunt died right before the book began, but her ghost accompanies the family on much of its quest; Mup sees the moral conflict that her aunt's decision to run away from home entailed, as she saved herself and her sister but left the rest of her friends and people behind to face her mother's wrath.
There are people who can turn into animals and men who are forced to say everything in rhyme, and the magical world is just so interesting and miserable at the same time that I was fascinated by it. Even when the story veered into predictable territory (as it did, essentially, follow the pattern left by many books before it), it did so in a way that was still novel and intriguing.
All in all, Begone the Raggedy Witches is an interesting new story that I enjoyed reading (even when it got rather dark). I'm looking forward to continuing the trilogy!
Disclaimer: I received a complimentary copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.
12 October 2018
Voices from the Second World War from Candlewick Press, 2018
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| Click to view on Goodreads |
The Second World War was the most devastating war in history. Up to eighty million people died, and the map of the world was redrawn. More than seventy years after peace was declared, children interviewed family and community members to learn about the war from people who were there, to record their memories before they were lost forever. Now, in a unique collection, RAF pilots, evacuees, resistance fighters, Land Girls, U.S. Navy sailors, and survivors of the Holocaust and the Hiroshima bombing all tell their stories, passing on the lessons learned to a new generation. Featuring many vintage photographs, this moving volume also offers an index of contributors and a glossary.
(320 pages)
I both really loved this book and also didn't really like it.
I really love what it's doing. It takes the stories of people alive during WWII and records them in a format that is accessible for children (though perhaps sometimes a bit too heavy for them, for obvious reasons), saving them for posterity. There are stories from all different angles, from people who were soldiers during the war and people who were children, Jews and Germans and Poles and Brits and Americans and more telling their individual slivers of the grand narrative of the war.
On the other hand, I didn't really like it in parts because some of the stories–especially toward the beginning–were kind of boring: basically, "I was evacuated and lived on a farm for a while." Plus there was clearly some strong editing done, because most of the narratives were told in the same way, even though they came from vastly different people and were recorded in the first-person narrative.
I flipped forward after a while, and once we get into the later parts of the war and its end, then the really impactful stories begin. There are stories from several Jewish children who survived death camps, or whose parents went into them. There are pictures of the people back then, too, which made the stories so much more real. The one that is absolutely most shattering is a two-page spread of Hungarian Jews fresh off the cattle trucks at Auschwitz-Birkenau, waiting to be sorted. The caption informs us that only the strong were spared from being immediately sent to the gas chambers, and it's a thousand times more horrifying than just reading the fact because you can look into the faces of all these people about to be murdered.
It's - it's pretty hard, to be honest. Some of the material in this book is extremely horrifying and depressing. Add in a little bit of bad language (mainly a couple of "hell"s) and this is definitely not a book you should be handing off to your young children any time soon. But it is a pretty good collection of stories from across the war, tied together with explanations of the historical context, and I think it is important that we carry these stories with us into the future generations.
Disclaimer: I received a complimentary copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.
I both really loved this book and also didn't really like it.
I really love what it's doing. It takes the stories of people alive during WWII and records them in a format that is accessible for children (though perhaps sometimes a bit too heavy for them, for obvious reasons), saving them for posterity. There are stories from all different angles, from people who were soldiers during the war and people who were children, Jews and Germans and Poles and Brits and Americans and more telling their individual slivers of the grand narrative of the war.
On the other hand, I didn't really like it in parts because some of the stories–especially toward the beginning–were kind of boring: basically, "I was evacuated and lived on a farm for a while." Plus there was clearly some strong editing done, because most of the narratives were told in the same way, even though they came from vastly different people and were recorded in the first-person narrative.
I flipped forward after a while, and once we get into the later parts of the war and its end, then the really impactful stories begin. There are stories from several Jewish children who survived death camps, or whose parents went into them. There are pictures of the people back then, too, which made the stories so much more real. The one that is absolutely most shattering is a two-page spread of Hungarian Jews fresh off the cattle trucks at Auschwitz-Birkenau, waiting to be sorted. The caption informs us that only the strong were spared from being immediately sent to the gas chambers, and it's a thousand times more horrifying than just reading the fact because you can look into the faces of all these people about to be murdered.
It's - it's pretty hard, to be honest. Some of the material in this book is extremely horrifying and depressing. Add in a little bit of bad language (mainly a couple of "hell"s) and this is definitely not a book you should be handing off to your young children any time soon. But it is a pretty good collection of stories from across the war, tied together with explanations of the historical context, and I think it is important that we carry these stories with us into the future generations.
Disclaimer: I received a complimentary copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.
08 October 2018
Make It Rain! by Areva Martin, 2018
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| Click to view on Goodreads |
It's happening right in front of you every day. Guest experts on TV, radio, podcasts, blogs, and live streaming are getting local and national exposure for their business and brand that they could never have afforded to reach with ads.
For a decade, Areva Martin has used the media to build a huge platform that expanded the influence and power of her brand exponentially. Media appearances on Dr. Phil, Anderson Cooper 360, The Doctors, CNN, MSNBC, FOX, and more have virtually eliminated the need of a marketing budget for her thriving law firm and non-profit organization, while securing her place as one of America's most sought after thought leaders.
In Make It Rain! Areva breaks the silence to reveal what insiders know about the power of media appearances to revolutionize a business and brand and get your core message out to the people who need it most. You'll learn how to:
Match your brand to the right audience and media venues
Craft pitches producers can't resist
Jump on breaking news shows
Pivot and speak in soundbites like the pros
Amplify every interview with social media
Turn appearances into platform and become a rainmaker
Never before have there been more ways to build a presence that matters. Whether you are the executive of a corporation, the author of an upcoming book, the owner of a rapidly growing small business, or the public face of a local nonprofit or association, if you have a business to build or people you want to help, nothing beats using the media to create the visibility, influence, and power you need. Are you ready toMake It Rain!?
(272 pages)
Since I've been blogging for years now, I figured it was time to read a book about how to market yourself effectively.
So far, my approach has been to post two reviews a week, copy-and-paste them into Goodreads, set up Bloglovin to automatically post links to my reviews on Twitter, and occasionally post pictures of books and/or my Scottish university on Instagram. According to Areva, I'm doing everything wrong.
I don't have a cohesive brand, because I'm split between talking about books and my international university. I don't interact with people much on social media (in fact, I usually forget to even check in on my accounts). I don't plug myself nearly enough, and I'm not marketing myself nearly so aggressively enough.
After reading Make It Rain!, I can say with some definity that I have no interest in changing my habits to conform to Areva's advice. But that doesn't mean it's not good advice–in fact, for people who really want to establish themselves as experts in a field and bring themselves into the public eye, I think this book is an absolute goldmine! Areva doesn't tell any warm, fuzzy stories about wandering into fame. This book is full of tips for projecting an aura of professionalism, convincing tv producers to invite you onboard, keeping on top of pop culture to see if you can find an in, etc. She talks about following hashtags on Twitter, tweeting about relevant topics early in the morning so producers will see you. She talks about watching hours of different talk shows, seeing how they interact with their interviewees and what tone they keep. Her road to fame is not an easy one; it involves hours of daily grunt work to keep on top of things, to stay relevant, and to get your name out there.
Honestly, I think I would hate trying to become a "tv professional" the way Areva is. I don't want to whittle my personal brand down into a few bullet points, or constantly try to insert myself into every national dialogue that comes across the front page. But for people who might be interested in such a pursuit, this book seems like a wonderful starting point. Areva is a goldmine of resources as well as tips, and I think anyone starting out in the self-publicity arena will gain quite a bit from reading Make It Rain!.
Disclaimer: I received a complimentary copy of this book from the publisher in exchange for an honest review.
Since I've been blogging for years now, I figured it was time to read a book about how to market yourself effectively.
So far, my approach has been to post two reviews a week, copy-and-paste them into Goodreads, set up Bloglovin to automatically post links to my reviews on Twitter, and occasionally post pictures of books and/or my Scottish university on Instagram. According to Areva, I'm doing everything wrong.
I don't have a cohesive brand, because I'm split between talking about books and my international university. I don't interact with people much on social media (in fact, I usually forget to even check in on my accounts). I don't plug myself nearly enough, and I'm not marketing myself nearly so aggressively enough.
After reading Make It Rain!, I can say with some definity that I have no interest in changing my habits to conform to Areva's advice. But that doesn't mean it's not good advice–in fact, for people who really want to establish themselves as experts in a field and bring themselves into the public eye, I think this book is an absolute goldmine! Areva doesn't tell any warm, fuzzy stories about wandering into fame. This book is full of tips for projecting an aura of professionalism, convincing tv producers to invite you onboard, keeping on top of pop culture to see if you can find an in, etc. She talks about following hashtags on Twitter, tweeting about relevant topics early in the morning so producers will see you. She talks about watching hours of different talk shows, seeing how they interact with their interviewees and what tone they keep. Her road to fame is not an easy one; it involves hours of daily grunt work to keep on top of things, to stay relevant, and to get your name out there.
Honestly, I think I would hate trying to become a "tv professional" the way Areva is. I don't want to whittle my personal brand down into a few bullet points, or constantly try to insert myself into every national dialogue that comes across the front page. But for people who might be interested in such a pursuit, this book seems like a wonderful starting point. Areva is a goldmine of resources as well as tips, and I think anyone starting out in the self-publicity arena will gain quite a bit from reading Make It Rain!.
Disclaimer: I received a complimentary copy of this book from the publisher in exchange for an honest review.
05 October 2018
The Royal Order of Fighting Dragons by Dan Elish, 2018
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| Click to view on Goodreads |
Ike Rupert Hollingsberry is haunted by the past because complete strangers won’t let him forget that his famous father died on the set of The Fighting Dragons, a cult favorite that still has people talking. But when he’s attacked by a large locust, like the one that killed his dad, Ike is helped by the geekiest nerd of all, Elmira Hand. Killing the giant locust is only the beginning of the surprises in store for Ike as he is whisked away from New York City to an isolated Florida compound to assume his role as the next in line to lead the Royal Order of Fighting Dragons—that are NOT supposed to exist—and learns his dad’s death was a cover-up for a far greater purpose…
(300 pages)
Oh, gosh.
There is so much to cringe at in this book, but I had so much fun reading it that I'm not going to pick at it too hard. Sometimes, a goofy book about kids finding out they are part of an ancient tradition, getting onto dragons, and fighting massive bug beasts just hits the spot, you know? This was a very nice break from my otherwise intense first few weeks back at university.
Because really, it's a great premise. Sure, variations of the "kids saving the world from disaster" story have been done to death, but they are told so often because they are genuinely appealing. I quite liked Ike, who was a genuinely good kid, and the other kids were fairly typecast into specific roles but I thought they were interesting enough that I still enjoyed reading about them. I particularly liked the Australian girl, who was so outrageously and stereotypically Australian (think: wrestling alligators and wearing a snake as a belt) that she was just hilarious to read.
At the same time, I don't want to pretend that this is a perfect book. The basic idea that only Ike and his teammates can save the day seems forced, since there must be so many other descendants of the necessary knights and their dragons. Ike's tech-genius friend is ridiculously overpowered (a trait that annoys me more and more the longer I study computer science), and the idea that Ike has to be the leader of the group because of who his ancestor was seems ridiculous at best and almost harmful at worst (because seriously, we are not entirely defined by our ancestors!).
Since I live in Scotland during term-time, I also want to briefly address the Arthurian origin of the conflict between the Royal Order of Fighting Dragons and the locusts. Basically, I thought it was a really cool idea to root the conflict throughout history, but I found it pretty obvious that Elish has not spent much time in the U.K. There is a list partway through the book of all the locations of previous attacks; for those that happened in England, the town or general area is specified (usually London). But when it's in other countries, it basically just says the name of the country (Ireland, Scotland, and "South Wales"). These places are, in fact, also split up into towns and cities! Also, one character is described as having a "strong British accent." I literally laughed out loud when I read that, because there is no such thing. Britain is made up of Scotland, Wales, and England, which all have very different accents from each other and even regionally within their own borders.
This is something that really only bothers me because of my experience living over here, though, so I really can't hold it against the book too much. If you see a copy, and you're looking for a fun, cheesy, and slightly ridiculous adventure story, then do give it a go! I may have some nit-picks, but I still enjoyed it.
Disclaimer: I received a complimentary copy of this novel in exchange for an honest review.
Oh, gosh.
There is so much to cringe at in this book, but I had so much fun reading it that I'm not going to pick at it too hard. Sometimes, a goofy book about kids finding out they are part of an ancient tradition, getting onto dragons, and fighting massive bug beasts just hits the spot, you know? This was a very nice break from my otherwise intense first few weeks back at university.
Because really, it's a great premise. Sure, variations of the "kids saving the world from disaster" story have been done to death, but they are told so often because they are genuinely appealing. I quite liked Ike, who was a genuinely good kid, and the other kids were fairly typecast into specific roles but I thought they were interesting enough that I still enjoyed reading about them. I particularly liked the Australian girl, who was so outrageously and stereotypically Australian (think: wrestling alligators and wearing a snake as a belt) that she was just hilarious to read.
At the same time, I don't want to pretend that this is a perfect book. The basic idea that only Ike and his teammates can save the day seems forced, since there must be so many other descendants of the necessary knights and their dragons. Ike's tech-genius friend is ridiculously overpowered (a trait that annoys me more and more the longer I study computer science), and the idea that Ike has to be the leader of the group because of who his ancestor was seems ridiculous at best and almost harmful at worst (because seriously, we are not entirely defined by our ancestors!).
Since I live in Scotland during term-time, I also want to briefly address the Arthurian origin of the conflict between the Royal Order of Fighting Dragons and the locusts. Basically, I thought it was a really cool idea to root the conflict throughout history, but I found it pretty obvious that Elish has not spent much time in the U.K. There is a list partway through the book of all the locations of previous attacks; for those that happened in England, the town or general area is specified (usually London). But when it's in other countries, it basically just says the name of the country (Ireland, Scotland, and "South Wales"). These places are, in fact, also split up into towns and cities! Also, one character is described as having a "strong British accent." I literally laughed out loud when I read that, because there is no such thing. Britain is made up of Scotland, Wales, and England, which all have very different accents from each other and even regionally within their own borders.
This is something that really only bothers me because of my experience living over here, though, so I really can't hold it against the book too much. If you see a copy, and you're looking for a fun, cheesy, and slightly ridiculous adventure story, then do give it a go! I may have some nit-picks, but I still enjoyed it.
Disclaimer: I received a complimentary copy of this novel in exchange for an honest review.
01 October 2018
Tiny Infinities by J.H. Diehl, 2018
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| Click to view on Goodreads |
(352 pages)
My parents haven't gotten divorced, thank goodness, but I imagine that if they did I would probably behave a lot like Alice does.
I mean, running away to the backyard and swearing to live in a tent until your dad moves back in totally seems like a reasonable response to learning that your parents are separating. Is that just me? Maybe? Ok.
Anyway, I feel like Alice is a very normal girl in many ways. Besides her strong response to her parents' separation, she tries to keep the summer as normal as possible. She focuses on her passion for swimming, and her goal to get on the swim team record board, and on babysitting her young neighbor.
I think my favorite storyline was the one with her parents, just because it was so sad and frustrating and . . . real. Beyond that, I liked the babysitting storyline just because Piper is such a precious little girl and I was rooting for them to figure out how best to help her (though the way they did was so cheesy/unrealistic I had to swallow some serious disbelief). I wasn't a huge fan of her big brother Owen, the illegitimate pre-marriage son of her father who seemed nice enough but also like kind of a player (and seriously, does a MG book need a character with such a morally iffy backstory?).
As for Harriet, I didn't really like her at all. I'm kind of tired of the trope of "quirky best friends" who say whatever pops into their head and acts like kind of a jerk but gets away with it because they're so "smart." Harriet just really annoyed me, probably more than was entirely reasonable. But I really appreciated that she kind of annoyed Alice too, and that Harriet didn't entirely get away with everything she did and said.
All in all, I liked reading Tiny Infinities. At places, I was really swept away by it; at others, I was merely entertained (or vaguely annoyed with characters in it). But it's a good book, and if you're interested then I do recommend you pick it up.
Disclaimer: I received a complimentary copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.
My parents haven't gotten divorced, thank goodness, but I imagine that if they did I would probably behave a lot like Alice does.
I mean, running away to the backyard and swearing to live in a tent until your dad moves back in totally seems like a reasonable response to learning that your parents are separating. Is that just me? Maybe? Ok.
Anyway, I feel like Alice is a very normal girl in many ways. Besides her strong response to her parents' separation, she tries to keep the summer as normal as possible. She focuses on her passion for swimming, and her goal to get on the swim team record board, and on babysitting her young neighbor.
I think my favorite storyline was the one with her parents, just because it was so sad and frustrating and . . . real. Beyond that, I liked the babysitting storyline just because Piper is such a precious little girl and I was rooting for them to figure out how best to help her (though the way they did was so cheesy/unrealistic I had to swallow some serious disbelief). I wasn't a huge fan of her big brother Owen, the illegitimate pre-marriage son of her father who seemed nice enough but also like kind of a player (and seriously, does a MG book need a character with such a morally iffy backstory?).
As for Harriet, I didn't really like her at all. I'm kind of tired of the trope of "quirky best friends" who say whatever pops into their head and acts like kind of a jerk but gets away with it because they're so "smart." Harriet just really annoyed me, probably more than was entirely reasonable. But I really appreciated that she kind of annoyed Alice too, and that Harriet didn't entirely get away with everything she did and said.
All in all, I liked reading Tiny Infinities. At places, I was really swept away by it; at others, I was merely entertained (or vaguely annoyed with characters in it). But it's a good book, and if you're interested then I do recommend you pick it up.
Disclaimer: I received a complimentary copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.
28 September 2018
The Length of a String by Elissa Brent Weissman, 2018
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| Click to view on Goodreads |
(384 pages)
I loved it.
There's no point beating around the bush. I really, really enjoyed reading this book. I love reading about Imani's struggles to fit in as a black adoptee in a white Jewish neighborhood. I love how Weissman portrayed Imani's thirst for knowledge about her birth family, while still loving her adoptive family more than anything. I love that her little brother is also adopted but has no interest in his birth parents, which represents the diversity in outlooks of adoptees.
Anna's story is a lot less fun to read than Imani's in places, but it was just as well done. Her story was similar to many other WWII refugee books I've read over the years, but there were enough details–such as the coat piecing plant, where Anna comes to help her foster father and the stingy uncles.
The uncles themselves were a great addition to the story, because they were both horrible and pathetic. I love nuance in a children's book. The details about Anna's family and her relationship with her siblings (especially her identical twin Belle) were both wonderfully done and incredibly sad. Watching her unravel her parents' thought process as they chose which of their children to send to safety was especially heartbreaking. So was seeing Anna's struggle to balance her love for America with her homesickness and, later, her sorrow for what European Jews were being subjected to.
It was kind of cool to be learning Anna's story alongside Amani, as Amani read each entry in her great-grandmother's diary and reacted emotionally to each new development. When there was information we readers needed that wasn't available from Anna's diary perspective, Amani would Google a topic or ask an older family member to get the answer. It was a smart storytelling technique, a story within a story, and I kind of wish more books did it.
Having made it very clear that there was a lot I liked about The Length of a String, I should add a few negatives. Anna's story is an interesting one but, as I said before, I've read a lot of WWII refugee books. Without Amani's story and reactions to reading her diary, I probably would have been a little less absorbed with it. Also, I felt like Amani was pretty selfish, digging into her adoption against her mother's express wishes. I would have preferred if she had been brave enough to convince her parents before she started searching, rather than reacting after she was caught. But then, she's only twelve and she has her heart set on finding her biological roots. It makes sense that her decision-making process isn't quite as mature as it could have been. Anyway, I really loved how that storyline was concluded.
All in all, this is just such a nice, solid, thought-provoking read which I very much enjoyed. If you like the looks of the description, then you probably will enjoy it, too!
Disclaimer: I received a complimentary copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.
I loved it.
There's no point beating around the bush. I really, really enjoyed reading this book. I love reading about Imani's struggles to fit in as a black adoptee in a white Jewish neighborhood. I love how Weissman portrayed Imani's thirst for knowledge about her birth family, while still loving her adoptive family more than anything. I love that her little brother is also adopted but has no interest in his birth parents, which represents the diversity in outlooks of adoptees.
Anna's story is a lot less fun to read than Imani's in places, but it was just as well done. Her story was similar to many other WWII refugee books I've read over the years, but there were enough details–such as the coat piecing plant, where Anna comes to help her foster father and the stingy uncles.
The uncles themselves were a great addition to the story, because they were both horrible and pathetic. I love nuance in a children's book. The details about Anna's family and her relationship with her siblings (especially her identical twin Belle) were both wonderfully done and incredibly sad. Watching her unravel her parents' thought process as they chose which of their children to send to safety was especially heartbreaking. So was seeing Anna's struggle to balance her love for America with her homesickness and, later, her sorrow for what European Jews were being subjected to.
It was kind of cool to be learning Anna's story alongside Amani, as Amani read each entry in her great-grandmother's diary and reacted emotionally to each new development. When there was information we readers needed that wasn't available from Anna's diary perspective, Amani would Google a topic or ask an older family member to get the answer. It was a smart storytelling technique, a story within a story, and I kind of wish more books did it.
Having made it very clear that there was a lot I liked about The Length of a String, I should add a few negatives. Anna's story is an interesting one but, as I said before, I've read a lot of WWII refugee books. Without Amani's story and reactions to reading her diary, I probably would have been a little less absorbed with it. Also, I felt like Amani was pretty selfish, digging into her adoption against her mother's express wishes. I would have preferred if she had been brave enough to convince her parents before she started searching, rather than reacting after she was caught. But then, she's only twelve and she has her heart set on finding her biological roots. It makes sense that her decision-making process isn't quite as mature as it could have been. Anyway, I really loved how that storyline was concluded.
All in all, this is just such a nice, solid, thought-provoking read which I very much enjoyed. If you like the looks of the description, then you probably will enjoy it, too!
Disclaimer: I received a complimentary copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.
24 September 2018
Bash Bash Revolution by Douglas Lain, 2018
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| Click to view on Goodreads |
Then, as abruptly as he appeared, Matthew's father disappears again, just as he was beginning to let Jeff back into his life. The betrayal is life-shattering, and Matthew decides to give chase, in the process discovering the true nature of the government-sponsored artificial intelligence program his father has been involved in. Told as a series of conversations between Matthew and his father's artificial intelligence program, Bash Bash Revolution is a wildly original novel of apocalypse and revolution, as well as a poignant story of broken family.
(293 pages)
I've always been interested in cutting-edge technology and the ways that technological advancements affect society, so I was naturally very excited to read Bash Bash Revolution.
Unfortunately, I didn't like it nearly as much as I'd thought I would. This is for a couple of reasons, so I'll just go through them.
First, the language. Pretty self-explanatory, I thought the profanities were entirely unecessary.
Second, I didn't really like Matthew. I don't care what his reasons were, I just couldn't get behind his whole "smart guy drops out of high school to play video games" story.
Third, I don't like how they represented religion. One of the characters comes from a super-conservative Christian background, but she doesn't act like any of the (many) people I know who actually come from conservative families. Instead, she's basically just a tool for Lain to show the way technology was breaking down old pillars. She is fine as a character, but as a representative of my faith (or, really, of any serious religion) I didn't really like her. Because seriously, people don't change that easily.
And that brings me to my fourth and largest gripe with Bash Bash Revolution: it's completely unrealistic. I doubt an AI would ever seriously come to those sorts of conclusions, or behave in the manner that it does, and it certainly could have been shut down. Plus, there's no way it could obtain enough data to so perfectly develop and present programs to enthrall each person. Not to mention the simple fact that there are many people who simply would not become enthralled forever. Surely I'm not the only one who gets sick when I play VR for more than half an hour without giving my eyes a break, right? And there are old people who would never put the headsets on in the first place. And mothers with young children would never just up and abandon their kids, no matter how good the game they were playing. And so on and so forth. Enough people would not play, or would quit playing after a while, that they would realize what was going on and put a stop to it.
Honestly, I liked the basic premise at the beginning of the book, but I quickly realized that my ability to suspend disbelief simply didn't reach far enough to get invested in Bash Bash Revolution. Plus, this is the sort of book that scares people about tech for no good reason, and as a computer science major I just can't get behind that.
Disclaimer: I received a complimentary copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.
I've always been interested in cutting-edge technology and the ways that technological advancements affect society, so I was naturally very excited to read Bash Bash Revolution.
Unfortunately, I didn't like it nearly as much as I'd thought I would. This is for a couple of reasons, so I'll just go through them.
First, the language. Pretty self-explanatory, I thought the profanities were entirely unecessary.
Second, I didn't really like Matthew. I don't care what his reasons were, I just couldn't get behind his whole "smart guy drops out of high school to play video games" story.
Third, I don't like how they represented religion. One of the characters comes from a super-conservative Christian background, but she doesn't act like any of the (many) people I know who actually come from conservative families. Instead, she's basically just a tool for Lain to show the way technology was breaking down old pillars. She is fine as a character, but as a representative of my faith (or, really, of any serious religion) I didn't really like her. Because seriously, people don't change that easily.
And that brings me to my fourth and largest gripe with Bash Bash Revolution: it's completely unrealistic. I doubt an AI would ever seriously come to those sorts of conclusions, or behave in the manner that it does, and it certainly could have been shut down. Plus, there's no way it could obtain enough data to so perfectly develop and present programs to enthrall each person. Not to mention the simple fact that there are many people who simply would not become enthralled forever. Surely I'm not the only one who gets sick when I play VR for more than half an hour without giving my eyes a break, right? And there are old people who would never put the headsets on in the first place. And mothers with young children would never just up and abandon their kids, no matter how good the game they were playing. And so on and so forth. Enough people would not play, or would quit playing after a while, that they would realize what was going on and put a stop to it.
Honestly, I liked the basic premise at the beginning of the book, but I quickly realized that my ability to suspend disbelief simply didn't reach far enough to get invested in Bash Bash Revolution. Plus, this is the sort of book that scares people about tech for no good reason, and as a computer science major I just can't get behind that.
Disclaimer: I received a complimentary copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.
21 September 2018
Breaking Cover by Michele Rigby Assad, 2018
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| Click to view on Goodreads |
Michele Rigby Assad was one of those people.
As a CIA agent, Michele soon found that working undercover was an all-encompassing job. The threats were real. The mission was a perilous one. Trained as a counterterrorism expert, Michele spent over a decade in the agency--a woman leading some of the most highly skilled operatives on the planet, secretly serving in some the most treacherous areas of the Middle East. But deep inside, Michele wondered: Could she really do this job? Was she in the right place at the right time, or had she misunderstood what she thought was God's calling on her life? Did she have what it would take to survive?
The answer came when Michele faced a life-or-death choice--one that had secretly been the plan for her all along.
In Breaking Cover, Michele has at last been cleared to drop cover and tell her story: one of incredible struggle; of thwarted plans and expectations; and most of all, of discovering a faith greater than all her fears.
(272 pages)
I feel terrible about this, but I completely forgot to review Breaking Cover. I planned to do it right before leaving for college, and somehow I thought I had but then when I came home again I saw it lying there and couldn't find my review online. Maybe I accidentally deleted it or something?
Anyway, moving on from my organizational woes. Breaking Cover is a pretty cool book about people who really lived a lifestyle that is usually only depicted in fiction. Michele seems like a very cool, relatable person, and so does her husband. I loved seeing what the life of married CIA agents was like, even though I cringed along with them when they kept being sent into the most dangerous spots on the planet.
Michele really shows what it's like to deal with sensitive information, interview potential terrorists/informants, etc. It's truly fascinating. Plus she was a woman serving a very important role in the Middle East, so most of her interviewees disrespected her for her gender from the moment she walked in the door. She describes in detail some of the strategies she used to manipulate their assumptions and use them to her advantage in the interview room, but it sounds like she also had to deal with similar snubs with American superiors and co-workers. It's pretty depressing.
Perhaps the scariest scene in the entire book is when Michele is driving through a town in the Middle East, alone and stopped at a stoplight, and a man begins to jeer and advance on her and then a bunch of other men step forward to come at her, too. She manages to get out of the situation relatively unscathed, but I can't believe the CIA didn't think to give her more protection (and perhaps a driver) in a country where women drivers are susceptible to being murdered.
It's hard to gather all my thoughts back together about a book that I read so long ago (so I can't warn about any bad language/material–sorry!). I definitely remember a lot more about Breaking Cover than I do about many of the other books I read around then, though, so I can vouch that it's a memorable read. I also have vivid memories of being fascinated by Michele's story (and even bothering my family with lots of cool anecdotes from the book), so I know I really enjoyed it. If you're interested, go ahead and pick it up for yourself!
Disclaimer: I received a complimentary copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.
I feel terrible about this, but I completely forgot to review Breaking Cover. I planned to do it right before leaving for college, and somehow I thought I had but then when I came home again I saw it lying there and couldn't find my review online. Maybe I accidentally deleted it or something?
Anyway, moving on from my organizational woes. Breaking Cover is a pretty cool book about people who really lived a lifestyle that is usually only depicted in fiction. Michele seems like a very cool, relatable person, and so does her husband. I loved seeing what the life of married CIA agents was like, even though I cringed along with them when they kept being sent into the most dangerous spots on the planet.
Michele really shows what it's like to deal with sensitive information, interview potential terrorists/informants, etc. It's truly fascinating. Plus she was a woman serving a very important role in the Middle East, so most of her interviewees disrespected her for her gender from the moment she walked in the door. She describes in detail some of the strategies she used to manipulate their assumptions and use them to her advantage in the interview room, but it sounds like she also had to deal with similar snubs with American superiors and co-workers. It's pretty depressing.
Perhaps the scariest scene in the entire book is when Michele is driving through a town in the Middle East, alone and stopped at a stoplight, and a man begins to jeer and advance on her and then a bunch of other men step forward to come at her, too. She manages to get out of the situation relatively unscathed, but I can't believe the CIA didn't think to give her more protection (and perhaps a driver) in a country where women drivers are susceptible to being murdered.
It's hard to gather all my thoughts back together about a book that I read so long ago (so I can't warn about any bad language/material–sorry!). I definitely remember a lot more about Breaking Cover than I do about many of the other books I read around then, though, so I can vouch that it's a memorable read. I also have vivid memories of being fascinated by Michele's story (and even bothering my family with lots of cool anecdotes from the book), so I know I really enjoyed it. If you're interested, go ahead and pick it up for yourself!
Disclaimer: I received a complimentary copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.
17 September 2018
The Dollar Kids by Jennifer Richard Jacobson, 2018
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| Click to view on Goodreads |
Twelve-year-old Lowen Grover, a budding comic-book artist, is still reeling from the shooting death of his friend Abe when he stumbles across an article about a former mill town giving away homes for just one dollar. It not only seems like the perfect escape from Flintlock and all of the awful memories associated with the city, but an opportunity for his mum to run her very own business. Fortunately, his family is willing to give it a try. But is the Dollar Program too good to be true? The homes are in horrible shape, and the locals are less than welcoming. Will Millville and the dollar house be the answer to the Grovers’ troubles? Or will they find they’ve traded one set of problems for another? From the author ofSmall as an Elephant and Paper Things comes a heart-tugging novel about guilt and grief, family and friendship, and, above all, community.
(416 pages)
This is the second book by Jacobson that I've read; the first was Small As An Elephant, which I found to be sad and meaningful but in a way that was pretty generic and forgettable. I saw some promise in it, though, so when I was offered the chance to read The Dollar Kids I decided to give it a go.
And I'm very glad I did, because it hits all the right notes this time. There's sadness as Lowen struggles to cope with Abe's violent death, abandoning his artwork in mourning, but that sorrowful plotline is woven gently into a broader story about moving, small-town life, and struggling to fit in. I thought it was all very well done.
I suppose I'm biased to like this book from the start simply because it provides a relatively realistic depiction of what it's like to be the new kid. The Grovers and the other Dollar families are initially viewed with curiosity, and then suspicion. Some of the kids are incorporated into the town life, if they find an in with the established friend groups; the rest are consigned to outsider status forever. Lowen's mother's Cornish Eatery is a delightful place, which customers quickly grow to love, but the business struggles because the locals feel social pressure to frequent the restaurant run by a woman who has lived in the town for ages.
I've never experienced this same level of outcast status, but I moved across state lines six times before my eighteenth birthday, so I certainly know what it's like to be the new kid–and I can say that the feeling of being a "new" person is awful, and it takes forever to go away (and sometimes never does).
Many other reviewers will probably dedicate more space to the gun violence aspect of the book, so I won't discuss it too much other than to say that I thought some potentially controversial material was handled very smoothly. It's a tragic story, and we see the emotional impact of the loss firsthand through Lowen. I think the family's revulsion toward guns is presented logically and with no real chest-thumping rhetoric so it hopefully shouldn't offend gun rights supporters too much. Also, one of the Dollar families is a lesbian couple with children, but that isn't really a big focus of the story, either.
All in all, The Dollar Kids is a really great book. It's the kind of book you read and get thoroughly absorbed into, without worrying too much about the mechanics of it. Read it and enjoy it. That's really all I can say.
Disclaimer: I received a complimentary copy of this novel from the publisher in exchange for an honest review.
This is the second book by Jacobson that I've read; the first was Small As An Elephant, which I found to be sad and meaningful but in a way that was pretty generic and forgettable. I saw some promise in it, though, so when I was offered the chance to read The Dollar Kids I decided to give it a go.
And I'm very glad I did, because it hits all the right notes this time. There's sadness as Lowen struggles to cope with Abe's violent death, abandoning his artwork in mourning, but that sorrowful plotline is woven gently into a broader story about moving, small-town life, and struggling to fit in. I thought it was all very well done.
I suppose I'm biased to like this book from the start simply because it provides a relatively realistic depiction of what it's like to be the new kid. The Grovers and the other Dollar families are initially viewed with curiosity, and then suspicion. Some of the kids are incorporated into the town life, if they find an in with the established friend groups; the rest are consigned to outsider status forever. Lowen's mother's Cornish Eatery is a delightful place, which customers quickly grow to love, but the business struggles because the locals feel social pressure to frequent the restaurant run by a woman who has lived in the town for ages.
I've never experienced this same level of outcast status, but I moved across state lines six times before my eighteenth birthday, so I certainly know what it's like to be the new kid–and I can say that the feeling of being a "new" person is awful, and it takes forever to go away (and sometimes never does).
Many other reviewers will probably dedicate more space to the gun violence aspect of the book, so I won't discuss it too much other than to say that I thought some potentially controversial material was handled very smoothly. It's a tragic story, and we see the emotional impact of the loss firsthand through Lowen. I think the family's revulsion toward guns is presented logically and with no real chest-thumping rhetoric so it hopefully shouldn't offend gun rights supporters too much. Also, one of the Dollar families is a lesbian couple with children, but that isn't really a big focus of the story, either.
All in all, The Dollar Kids is a really great book. It's the kind of book you read and get thoroughly absorbed into, without worrying too much about the mechanics of it. Read it and enjoy it. That's really all I can say.
Disclaimer: I received a complimentary copy of this novel from the publisher in exchange for an honest review.
14 September 2018
Flood by Melissa Scholes Young, 2018
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| Click to view on Goodreads |
Laura Brooks fled her hometown of Hannibal, Missouri, ten years ago after a historic flood and personal heartbreak. Now she’s returned unannounced, and her family and friends don't know what to make of it. She says she's just home for a brief visit and her high-school reunion, but she's carrying too much luggage for that: literal and metaphorical. Soon Laura is embroiled in small-town affairs—the contentious divorce of her rowdy best friend, Rose; the campaign of her twelve-year-old godson, Bobby, to become the town's official Tom Sawyer; and the renewed interest of the man Laura once thought she'd marry, Sammy McGuire.
Leaving town when she was eighteen had been Laura’s only option. She feared a stifling existence in a town ruled by its past, its mythological devotion to Mark Twain, and the economic and racial divide that runs as deep as the Mississippi River. She can’t forget that fateful Fourth of July when the levees broke or the decisions that still haunt her. Now as the Mississippi rises again, a deep wound threatens to reopen, and Laura must decide if running away once more might be the best way to save herself.
(323 pages)
Yeah, no.
This book is just depressing. Its characters are all, with the sole exception of twelve-year-old Bobby, unpleasant and immoral people who have gotten themselves into crummy situations. Laura's best friend Rose is the most grating, but Rose's ex is pure awful (read: he tries to sleep with Laura!), Laura's mother is unhelpful and emotionally distant, her brother is a druggy, her "dream man" and ex Sammy is divorcing his wife because she doesn't want kids (or, possibly, she's divorcing him because she caught him messing with her birth control!), and the list goes on and on.
Laura herself is just as bad as anyone. She likes to pity herself a lot, but she's made her fair share of bad choices. She's slept around a lot, and she's still coping with a miscarriage she had after a series of flings. She is a big-time enabler, helping Rose even when she is going nuts and assuaging her guilt by taking Bobby away on outings whenever she can. She also lends her brother money to buy land for a house, and we all knew how that was going to turn out.
I liked the idea of a book set on the island where Mark Twain grew up, and the attempts at examining racism were well-meant, but I just found Flood so frustrating and depressing (and expletive-filled) that I couldn't find much more to enjoy. I don't recommend it to anyone.
Disclaimer: I received a complimentary copy of this book from the publisher in exchange for an honest review.
Yeah, no.
This book is just depressing. Its characters are all, with the sole exception of twelve-year-old Bobby, unpleasant and immoral people who have gotten themselves into crummy situations. Laura's best friend Rose is the most grating, but Rose's ex is pure awful (read: he tries to sleep with Laura!), Laura's mother is unhelpful and emotionally distant, her brother is a druggy, her "dream man" and ex Sammy is divorcing his wife because she doesn't want kids (or, possibly, she's divorcing him because she caught him messing with her birth control!), and the list goes on and on.
Laura herself is just as bad as anyone. She likes to pity herself a lot, but she's made her fair share of bad choices. She's slept around a lot, and she's still coping with a miscarriage she had after a series of flings. She is a big-time enabler, helping Rose even when she is going nuts and assuaging her guilt by taking Bobby away on outings whenever she can. She also lends her brother money to buy land for a house, and we all knew how that was going to turn out.
I liked the idea of a book set on the island where Mark Twain grew up, and the attempts at examining racism were well-meant, but I just found Flood so frustrating and depressing (and expletive-filled) that I couldn't find much more to enjoy. I don't recommend it to anyone.
Disclaimer: I received a complimentary copy of this book from the publisher in exchange for an honest review.
10 September 2018
A Flexible Faith by Bonnie Kristian, 2018
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| Click to view on Goodreads |
It is all too easy to fail to grasp the diversity of the Christian faith-especially for those who have grown up in one branch of the church and never explored another. We fail to realize how many ways there are to follow Jesus, convinced that our own tradition is the one Christian alternative to nonbelief.
A FLEXIBLE FAITH is written for the convinced and confused believer alike. It is a readable exploration of the lively theological diversity that stretches back through church history and across the spectrum of Christianity today. It is an easy introduction to how Christians have historically answered key questions about what it means to follow Jesus. Chapters will include 17 big theological questions and answers; profiles of relevant figures in church history; discussion questions; single-page Q&As-profiles of more unusual types of Christians (e.g., a Catholic nun or a member of an Amish community); and a guide to major Christian denominations today.
As Bonnie shares her wrestlings with core issues-such as who Jesus is, what place the Church has in our lives, how to disagree yet remain within a community, and how to love the Bible for what it actually is-she teaches us how to walk courageously through our own tough questions.
Following Jesus is big and it is something that individual believers, movements, and denominations have expressed in uncountably different ways over the centuries. In the process of helping us sort things out, Bonnie shows us how to be comfortable with diversity in the Body. And as we learn to hold questions in one hand and answers in the other, we will discover new depths of faith that will remain secure even through the storms of life.
(272 pages)
This book is so awesome.
No, seriously. Just to start with, it's so nice to read a book about Christian theology that's not trying to make every reader believe exactly the same thing as the author.
Kristian starts the book by laying out a few main beliefs all Christians must have to be counted as Christians (basically believe in the Bible, Jesus, and the Holy Trinity), and makes the argument that all other issues are open for interpretation by different denominations. Then, each chapter in the rest of the book describes the logic behind all the main opposing viewpoints on a given topic. Kristian offers her own viewpoint at the end of a handful of chapters, but never implies that her perspective is the only valid one; on the rest of them, she doesn't even offer any hints about what she believes.
I love it. I love that she's fighting the "my way or the highway" attitude in so many churches, that she's showing her readers all the valid options for personalizing their faith. I may not agree with all of the options she lists (in fact, I'm quite strongly opposed to a few of them!), but I love that she lays everything out in a way that lets every reader draw their own conclusions.
She also has an interview with a different "out of the box" Christian in between the chapters. Some people might find those really interesting as well, but I found myself skimming over them a fair bit.
A Flexible Faith is a wonderful resource for nonbelievers as an overview of Christian beliefs, for questioning Christians trying to get away from a denomination that's just not right for them, and for established Christians with a shallow understanding of competing Christian ideals. Basically, for anyone with any questions about any area of Christianity, A Flexible Faith is a wonderful starting point.
Disclaimer: I received a complimentary copy of this book from the publisher in exchange for an honest review.
This book is so awesome.
No, seriously. Just to start with, it's so nice to read a book about Christian theology that's not trying to make every reader believe exactly the same thing as the author.
Kristian starts the book by laying out a few main beliefs all Christians must have to be counted as Christians (basically believe in the Bible, Jesus, and the Holy Trinity), and makes the argument that all other issues are open for interpretation by different denominations. Then, each chapter in the rest of the book describes the logic behind all the main opposing viewpoints on a given topic. Kristian offers her own viewpoint at the end of a handful of chapters, but never implies that her perspective is the only valid one; on the rest of them, she doesn't even offer any hints about what she believes.
I love it. I love that she's fighting the "my way or the highway" attitude in so many churches, that she's showing her readers all the valid options for personalizing their faith. I may not agree with all of the options she lists (in fact, I'm quite strongly opposed to a few of them!), but I love that she lays everything out in a way that lets every reader draw their own conclusions.
She also has an interview with a different "out of the box" Christian in between the chapters. Some people might find those really interesting as well, but I found myself skimming over them a fair bit.
A Flexible Faith is a wonderful resource for nonbelievers as an overview of Christian beliefs, for questioning Christians trying to get away from a denomination that's just not right for them, and for established Christians with a shallow understanding of competing Christian ideals. Basically, for anyone with any questions about any area of Christianity, A Flexible Faith is a wonderful starting point.
Disclaimer: I received a complimentary copy of this book from the publisher in exchange for an honest review.
06 September 2018
The Law of Finders Keepers by Sheila Turnage, 2018
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| Click to view on Goodreads |
When the Colonel and Miss Lana share the clues about Mo's watery origins that they've been saving, it seems the time is finally right for the Desperado Detectives (aka Mo, Dale, and Harm) to tackle the mystery of Mo's Upstream Mother. It's the scariest case Mo's had by far. But before they can get started, Mayor Little's mean mother hires them to hunt in her attic for clues to Blackbeard's treasure, which could be buried right in Tupelo Landing. Turns out, the Desperados aren't the only ones looking. A professional treasure hunter named Gabe has come to town with Harm's estranged mother--and soon the race is on, even though the treasure's rumored to be cursed. As centuries- and decades-old secrets are dragged into the light, there isn't a single person in Tupelo Landing quite prepared for all that they uncover. Especially Mo.
The fourth and last book in the Mo & Dale Mystery series and the long-awaited conclusion to Three Times Lucky, The Law of Finders Keepers is a heartbreaking, heartwarming, honest, and hilarious adventure that you can read right after you finish Three Times Lucky.
(368 pages)
I have been such a huge fan of the Mo and Dale series for years, ever since I saw Sheila Turnage speak on a book panel while promoting Three Times Lucky and I went home and picked up a copy from the library. She was such a cool person in real life, and I still count myself lucky to have seen her before Three Times Lucky became really famous and won its Newberry Honor. And I'm still kicking myself for not buying a copy and getting her to sign it!
Anyway, all that is to say that I was very excited for the release of this final book in the Mo and Dale series.
Did it live up to my hopes? Yes and no.
In some ways, I was a bit disappointed with The Law of Finders Keepers. The "kids hunting for pirate treasure" storyline has never been my favorite, and I'm a bit sick of it. Plus I felt like things were a bit more rote this time, that some of the new characters weren't nearly as interesting as the older ones. Not to mention the storyline about Mo's search for her Upstream Mother. I liked how Turnage portrayed Mo's feelings, as well as the Colonel and Miss Lana's as the search heated up–but I felt like the big clue that fell into Mo's lap was a bit of a plot convenience, I thought the mechanics of the climax were kind of ridiculous, and I'm still not sure the story of Mo's mother is very satisfying for me. Plus the book gets into some darker stuff–a life-threatening experience with quicksand and Harm's troubled relationship with his mother, in particular–which made things feel a little more grounded than they have in the past.
There. I got the negative out of the way. Now I want to point at everything I said above . . . and say it doesn't matter. Because the truth is that even with all those iffy areas, I still adored the book. It's still a really, really fun and compelling read, full of off-the-wall characters and plot twists. In any other writer's hands, The Law of Finders Keepers would have been the cringey end to a series that went on too long; in Turnage's, it's a funny, grabbing romp. Even the areas that weren't as strong as the previous books really weren't that bad, and perhaps their "grounding" effect on an otherwise pretty flighty series was a good way to bring things to a close.
Honestly, I just love this series so much. Three Times Lucky will always be my favorite out of the four by far, but The Law of Finders Keepers is still a great read. I recommend it to anyone who's gotten this far in the series already (but don't you dare read this series out of order!).
Disclaimer: I received a complimentary copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.
I have been such a huge fan of the Mo and Dale series for years, ever since I saw Sheila Turnage speak on a book panel while promoting Three Times Lucky and I went home and picked up a copy from the library. She was such a cool person in real life, and I still count myself lucky to have seen her before Three Times Lucky became really famous and won its Newberry Honor. And I'm still kicking myself for not buying a copy and getting her to sign it!
Anyway, all that is to say that I was very excited for the release of this final book in the Mo and Dale series.
Did it live up to my hopes? Yes and no.
In some ways, I was a bit disappointed with The Law of Finders Keepers. The "kids hunting for pirate treasure" storyline has never been my favorite, and I'm a bit sick of it. Plus I felt like things were a bit more rote this time, that some of the new characters weren't nearly as interesting as the older ones. Not to mention the storyline about Mo's search for her Upstream Mother. I liked how Turnage portrayed Mo's feelings, as well as the Colonel and Miss Lana's as the search heated up–but I felt like the big clue that fell into Mo's lap was a bit of a plot convenience, I thought the mechanics of the climax were kind of ridiculous, and I'm still not sure the story of Mo's mother is very satisfying for me. Plus the book gets into some darker stuff–a life-threatening experience with quicksand and Harm's troubled relationship with his mother, in particular–which made things feel a little more grounded than they have in the past.
There. I got the negative out of the way. Now I want to point at everything I said above . . . and say it doesn't matter. Because the truth is that even with all those iffy areas, I still adored the book. It's still a really, really fun and compelling read, full of off-the-wall characters and plot twists. In any other writer's hands, The Law of Finders Keepers would have been the cringey end to a series that went on too long; in Turnage's, it's a funny, grabbing romp. Even the areas that weren't as strong as the previous books really weren't that bad, and perhaps their "grounding" effect on an otherwise pretty flighty series was a good way to bring things to a close.
Honestly, I just love this series so much. Three Times Lucky will always be my favorite out of the four by far, but The Law of Finders Keepers is still a great read. I recommend it to anyone who's gotten this far in the series already (but don't you dare read this series out of order!).
Disclaimer: I received a complimentary copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.
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