You need to sign in or sign up before continuing.
Take a photo of a barcode or cover
aaronj21's Reviews (912)
This book was a bit discursive and probably could have benefited from a more rigorous editing and formatting process. However, I enjoyed reading the film analysis and connections to US history present in this work even if the format was a little all over the place.
.jpeg)
This was a solid, unsettling, and endlessly fascinating collection of horror stories. Throughout, Hernandez showcases his creative range, keen sense for the uncanny, and a wicked sense of humor in even the bleakest situations. Some stand outs for me included From The Red Dirt a horror tale with an unexpectedly positive twist, The Return of the Champion a compulsively readable story about the terrors of space travel, and Family Annihilator one of the most upsetting yet fascinating home invasion stories I've ever read. This collection was a great introduction to this author for me and I will definitely be picking up other works of his in the future.
I’ve had my eye on this author ever since Nothing But Blackened Teeth came out years ago. This similarly brief nightmare of a novella showcases the growing talent that I and other readers first noticed in her earlier work.
This book chronicles the story of a mermaid (of a kind you’ve never seen in fiction before, trust me) and a nameless plague doctor wandering a bleak, hostile, fantasy world, searching for a place to start anew. Along the way they must battle the elements, semi feral children, and malevolent surgeons with pretentions to immortality. But as they search for some place to call their own, the relationship between these two consummate outcasts deepens from mere dependence for survival into something far more resonant and beautiful.
The world depicted here is uniquely dark and upsetting, it feels fully fleshed out and lived in for all that we only get brief descriptions of it. Khaw's gruesome plot is rendered beautiful with her remarkably unique and poetic language, a major strong suit of this talented writer. The characters make a compelling pair and play wonderfully off each other. The world building is top notch but its in the interactions between our two main characters that this book really shines. This IS a horror story too, make no mistake, there’s some genuinely nasty stuff in here even for people accustomed to the likes of Stephen King and Clive Barker.
But in the end The Salt Grows Heavy is that rarest of birds, a gruesome, macabrely beautiful tale skillfully weaving the disparate threads of both horror and romance into a compelling and memorable tapestry. Khaw spins a story as chilling as it is heartfelt and as frightening as it is ultimately sweet and love affirming.
This book chronicles the story of a mermaid (of a kind you’ve never seen in fiction before, trust me) and a nameless plague doctor wandering a bleak, hostile, fantasy world, searching for a place to start anew. Along the way they must battle the elements, semi feral children, and malevolent surgeons with pretentions to immortality. But as they search for some place to call their own, the relationship between these two consummate outcasts deepens from mere dependence for survival into something far more resonant and beautiful.
The world depicted here is uniquely dark and upsetting, it feels fully fleshed out and lived in for all that we only get brief descriptions of it. Khaw's gruesome plot is rendered beautiful with her remarkably unique and poetic language, a major strong suit of this talented writer. The characters make a compelling pair and play wonderfully off each other. The world building is top notch but its in the interactions between our two main characters that this book really shines. This IS a horror story too, make no mistake, there’s some genuinely nasty stuff in here even for people accustomed to the likes of Stephen King and Clive Barker.
But in the end The Salt Grows Heavy is that rarest of birds, a gruesome, macabrely beautiful tale skillfully weaving the disparate threads of both horror and romance into a compelling and memorable tapestry. Khaw spins a story as chilling as it is heartfelt and as frightening as it is ultimately sweet and love affirming.
I read and liked Tharoor’s book Inglorious Empire: What the British Did to India so I thought I’d pick up this title as well.
This book was at its best in the first half when the author was expounding on the history and philosophy of Hinduism. He paints a portrait of this most interesting and eclectic faith in glowing and vivid terms that are at once accessible and educational.
While his thoughts on the current state of India, and especially the concerning Hindutva movement are cogent and beautifully expressed, overall the latter half of the books felt a little scattered and rambling for me. I learned a good deal but I felt that it wanted a bit of the clarity and focus of his previous writing.
This book was at its best in the first half when the author was expounding on the history and philosophy of Hinduism. He paints a portrait of this most interesting and eclectic faith in glowing and vivid terms that are at once accessible and educational.
While his thoughts on the current state of India, and especially the concerning Hindutva movement are cogent and beautifully expressed, overall the latter half of the books felt a little scattered and rambling for me. I learned a good deal but I felt that it wanted a bit of the clarity and focus of his previous writing.
I liked this first book well enough to want to read the rest in the series at some point, it was an intriguing fantasy novel set in a rich and detailed world, unlike anything I’ve read before.
Very interesting both as an historical artifact and as a damn compelling novel.
This books it so very a product of its time, everyone talks like an old school gangster, (See here’s the plan kid, I got it all figured, we’re going to knock over Mr. Papadakis, scram with his dough and then we’ll be sitting pretty, see?) and there’s oddly pervasive, 1930’s racism directed at Greeks and Italians that’s so ubiquitous it might as well be in the water.
Yes, all the characters, Nick Papadakis excepted, are morally rotten but more importantly they’re a lot of fun to read about. Frank, our main character, and Cora his romantic interest / partner in crime, can’t seem to go five minutes without making the worst decisions you’ve ever seen in your life. All the while the now outdated word choices threaten to make the novel unintentionally hilarious, at one point after the trial when they’re facing the death penalty, Frank says “We’ve been flim-flamed, Cora.”
The Postman Always Rings Twice is also a shockingly tight and well-crafted story. It hits the ground running and barely lets up. Approaching as a skeptic, I was fully hooked after only a few pages and I stayed hooked until the very end. Despite its brief length this spare novel packs the punch of a much longer work. There’s real artistry too, not just shocks and twists. Cora and Frank’s relationship is fascinatingly messy and deeply interesting. The murders being startled by the echo of their victim’s voice as it reverberates off the California coast an instant after they kill him is solid gold storytelling, it’s the kind of crowning touch that impresses you deeply and makes you a bit sick with jealousy that you hadn’t thought of it.
I don’t know if I’ll read anymore of James M. Cain, but I’m sure glad I read this book.
P.S.
I cannot BELIEVE he got this published in 1934, the maniac! There are 21st century levels of violence and sexuality in this book.
This books it so very a product of its time, everyone talks like an old school gangster, (See here’s the plan kid, I got it all figured, we’re going to knock over Mr. Papadakis, scram with his dough and then we’ll be sitting pretty, see?) and there’s oddly pervasive, 1930’s racism directed at Greeks and Italians that’s so ubiquitous it might as well be in the water.
Yes, all the characters, Nick Papadakis excepted, are morally rotten but more importantly they’re a lot of fun to read about. Frank, our main character, and Cora his romantic interest / partner in crime, can’t seem to go five minutes without making the worst decisions you’ve ever seen in your life. All the while the now outdated word choices threaten to make the novel unintentionally hilarious, at one point after the trial when they’re facing the death penalty, Frank says “We’ve been flim-flamed, Cora.”
The Postman Always Rings Twice is also a shockingly tight and well-crafted story. It hits the ground running and barely lets up. Approaching as a skeptic, I was fully hooked after only a few pages and I stayed hooked until the very end. Despite its brief length this spare novel packs the punch of a much longer work. There’s real artistry too, not just shocks and twists. Cora and Frank’s relationship is fascinatingly messy and deeply interesting. The murders being startled by the echo of their victim’s voice as it reverberates off the California coast an instant after they kill him is solid gold storytelling, it’s the kind of crowning touch that impresses you deeply and makes you a bit sick with jealousy that you hadn’t thought of it.
I don’t know if I’ll read anymore of James M. Cain, but I’m sure glad I read this book.
P.S.
I cannot BELIEVE he got this published in 1934, the maniac! There are 21st century levels of violence and sexuality in this book.
.jpg)
Not one of my favorite Agatha Christie books, but still pretty good.
My thanks to NetGalley and the publisher for and advanced copy of this title in exchange for an honest review.
Homeland: The War on Terror in American Life makes the bold claim that our current political and historical moment, everything from the election of Donald Trump to the Black Lives Matter movement, can be understood as a direct result of the 9/11 attacks and America’s response to them. This thesis, tall order that it is, is borne out in resounding fashion in this gripping and competent book. In an engrossing read that feels far shorter than its nearly six hundred pages, readers will find a saddening, disturbing, but ultimately convincing and timely account of how the aftermath of September 11th 2001 has shaped America, and indeed the world, for the worse.
Homeland beings with the attacks themselves and shows how in the subsequent climate of nationwide fear, increasingly direct and unilateral levels of power were given to the executive branch of the government. This sweeping authority was used to surveil Americans and harass those of middle eastern origin or Muslim faith all in the name of security and preventing another attack. From there the book describes the War on Terror and how America’s involvement in Iraq and Afghanistan was both different from any previous military conflict and set the tone for America’s use of military force in the new century, increasing numbers of private contractors, nebulous war aims, and ever less accountability to the American people. After a few brief chapters about the history of global capitalism and how its market pressures have impacted nations throughout time, the book goes on to detail how mass protests movements illustrate the character of post 9/11 America and its relationship to its citizens. Indifferent or aggressive official responses to movements like Occupy Wall Street and Black Lives Matter are examples of what author Richard Beck compellingly calls “Impunity Culture”, the glaring lack of interest the government has in even pretending to care about the will or opinions of the people it claims to represent. Finally, while Homeland doesn’t downplay the severity of America’s problems it also ends on a note, not of abject gloom, but of informed awareness.
This book set out to prove a point and succeeded ably. Much writing about recent history, even when done well, can come across as either bone dry and dull or read as nothing more than a sophomoric recounting of headlines. Homeland avoids both these pitfalls and threads the needle between informative and accessible with skill and verve. In reading I learned so much about post 9/11 security measures, things I didn’t know even though I lived through them. This book also makes a compelling case for its thesis and connects disparate threads from two decades of history into a coherent narrative. Not just recounting historical events and dates but interrogating the rationale and the impact history makes. Despite its length, Homeland never once loses sight of this central idea yet it brings everything together in a way that feels organic and commonsense. The original ideas expounded in this book are exceptionally persuasive as well. The author’s use of “Impunity Culture” to describe the fundamental shift in how the American government interacts with its citizens is a kind of eureka moment that perfectly encapsulates so much of what feels wrong with our country today.
With the subject matter being what it is, parts of the book were undoubtedly hard to read. It was however, rewarding, and history is often more painful than we would like to remember. The chapters about profiling after 9/11 and those dealing the War on Terror in particular, showcase instance of extreme and alarming hypocrisy and injustice. Past failings America needs to acknowledge and atone for going forward. After turning the final page, I feel like I better grasp the significance of the tumultuous and difficult years since 2001. Whereas before I had a vague but persistent sense that things had overall gotten worse since 9/11, I now have a better understanding of what exactly happened to create the America I live in today and how it might be improved.
Homeland: The War on Terror in American Life makes the bold claim that our current political and historical moment, everything from the election of Donald Trump to the Black Lives Matter movement, can be understood as a direct result of the 9/11 attacks and America’s response to them. This thesis, tall order that it is, is borne out in resounding fashion in this gripping and competent book. In an engrossing read that feels far shorter than its nearly six hundred pages, readers will find a saddening, disturbing, but ultimately convincing and timely account of how the aftermath of September 11th 2001 has shaped America, and indeed the world, for the worse.
Homeland beings with the attacks themselves and shows how in the subsequent climate of nationwide fear, increasingly direct and unilateral levels of power were given to the executive branch of the government. This sweeping authority was used to surveil Americans and harass those of middle eastern origin or Muslim faith all in the name of security and preventing another attack. From there the book describes the War on Terror and how America’s involvement in Iraq and Afghanistan was both different from any previous military conflict and set the tone for America’s use of military force in the new century, increasing numbers of private contractors, nebulous war aims, and ever less accountability to the American people. After a few brief chapters about the history of global capitalism and how its market pressures have impacted nations throughout time, the book goes on to detail how mass protests movements illustrate the character of post 9/11 America and its relationship to its citizens. Indifferent or aggressive official responses to movements like Occupy Wall Street and Black Lives Matter are examples of what author Richard Beck compellingly calls “Impunity Culture”, the glaring lack of interest the government has in even pretending to care about the will or opinions of the people it claims to represent. Finally, while Homeland doesn’t downplay the severity of America’s problems it also ends on a note, not of abject gloom, but of informed awareness.
This book set out to prove a point and succeeded ably. Much writing about recent history, even when done well, can come across as either bone dry and dull or read as nothing more than a sophomoric recounting of headlines. Homeland avoids both these pitfalls and threads the needle between informative and accessible with skill and verve. In reading I learned so much about post 9/11 security measures, things I didn’t know even though I lived through them. This book also makes a compelling case for its thesis and connects disparate threads from two decades of history into a coherent narrative. Not just recounting historical events and dates but interrogating the rationale and the impact history makes. Despite its length, Homeland never once loses sight of this central idea yet it brings everything together in a way that feels organic and commonsense. The original ideas expounded in this book are exceptionally persuasive as well. The author’s use of “Impunity Culture” to describe the fundamental shift in how the American government interacts with its citizens is a kind of eureka moment that perfectly encapsulates so much of what feels wrong with our country today.
With the subject matter being what it is, parts of the book were undoubtedly hard to read. It was however, rewarding, and history is often more painful than we would like to remember. The chapters about profiling after 9/11 and those dealing the War on Terror in particular, showcase instance of extreme and alarming hypocrisy and injustice. Past failings America needs to acknowledge and atone for going forward. After turning the final page, I feel like I better grasp the significance of the tumultuous and difficult years since 2001. Whereas before I had a vague but persistent sense that things had overall gotten worse since 9/11, I now have a better understanding of what exactly happened to create the America I live in today and how it might be improved.
Whew. After finishing this one I need a nap, a mug of something warm, and possibly some over the counter medication. This book was fantastic and gripping but also brutal, savage, and almost emotionally abusive. This title should come with a disclaimer,
“Do not drive or operate heavy machinery twelve hours after completing this book. Some readers may be unable to exist normally in polite society up to several hours after reading the ending. Consult your healthcare provider if symptoms persist longer than 24 hours.”
Some fiction is so affecting and moving it should really be available by prescription only and this is definitely one of those books. I’d recommend it to almost anyone, it’s perhaps the best book I’ve read all year and I can tell already it will stick with me for ages. When you read it you’re fully immersed, you can smell the streets of Glasgow and you feel as if Mungo and his odd, rough family, are real people you’ve known all your life. In its best moments this novel rises to the peaks of what good fiction is capable of and finds a way to push higher still. It’s honest and beautiful, and tragic and everything that makes storytelling one of the oldest human passions. But it’s also emotionally taxing in the extreme, not a bad thing at all but something I’d definitely mention to anyone I push this on, like a warning label.
Douglas Stuart is fast becoming one of the most lauded writers of the decade and it’s abundantly apparent why. The man is a savant with his characterization and his prose drips emotion and pathos. He can paint a scene with words like few others can and manages to pull off fantastic stories that feel as massive and weighty as epics and as ordinary as everyday life at the same time.
Superb book, beautiful from beginning to end.
“Do not drive or operate heavy machinery twelve hours after completing this book. Some readers may be unable to exist normally in polite society up to several hours after reading the ending. Consult your healthcare provider if symptoms persist longer than 24 hours.”
Some fiction is so affecting and moving it should really be available by prescription only and this is definitely one of those books. I’d recommend it to almost anyone, it’s perhaps the best book I’ve read all year and I can tell already it will stick with me for ages. When you read it you’re fully immersed, you can smell the streets of Glasgow and you feel as if Mungo and his odd, rough family, are real people you’ve known all your life. In its best moments this novel rises to the peaks of what good fiction is capable of and finds a way to push higher still. It’s honest and beautiful, and tragic and everything that makes storytelling one of the oldest human passions. But it’s also emotionally taxing in the extreme, not a bad thing at all but something I’d definitely mention to anyone I push this on, like a warning label.
Douglas Stuart is fast becoming one of the most lauded writers of the decade and it’s abundantly apparent why. The man is a savant with his characterization and his prose drips emotion and pathos. He can paint a scene with words like few others can and manages to pull off fantastic stories that feel as massive and weighty as epics and as ordinary as everyday life at the same time.
Superb book, beautiful from beginning to end.